


Ninja Wizard Book 2

by mad_fairy



Series: Ninja Wizard: The Adventures of Harry Potter, Dimensional Traveler [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:49:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 228,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_fairy/pseuds/mad_fairy
Summary: Harry and friends second and third year.  Teen hijinks and rebellion, love troubles, betrayal and vengeance, all while Harry discovers a secret kept from him that endangers his life and threatens the wizarding world





	1. Chapter 1

It was Harry’s first summer back at Privet Drive since he’d found out he was a wizard, and had gone to school at Hogwarts. He had gotten back to London on the Hogwarts Express the night before, only to be met by his godfather, Sirius Black, who had offered to pick Harry up since he was right there in London already. They had gone out for tacos, only to run into the Weasley family, who’d had the same idea. There had been an altercation, and the place had ended up catching on fire. Harry and Sirius had gotten out of there and left the Weasleys to clean up their mess. 

The Dursleys hadn’t been too pleased when Sirius returned him to Privet Drive at 11 o’clock at night, smelling of smoke and tacos, and waking up the neighborhood with the roaring of his motorcycle. 

Part of Harry wished he could just forget about the money they owed him, but he just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t as if he even needed it, really—it was the principle of the thing. They had been raking in money from rental on his parents’ house, while denying him food, clothing or a room in their four bedroom house. Vernon’s sister Marge had a room, and she didn’t even live there! 

No, he could not, in good conscience, allow that to go. His own pride and self respect demanded that he stick to his guns and demand redress. The little bit he’d asked for—clothes that fit him every year till he was of age, and a decent mattress for the bed in Dudley’s second bedroom—would actually barely make a dent in the debt they owed him. If anything he was being too nice about things, but those were the terms he set, and he intended to see that they were met. He just wished he could claim his debt without having to deal with the Dursleys.  
   
While it was certainly true that the Dursleys had relaxed a bit over the years—a very tiny bit; they were nonetheless difficult people to get along with when the very fact of your existence was offensive to their ‘normal’ sensibilities. Not that the Dursleys were normal; if anything they were a caricature of ‘normal’. He just had to keep reminding himself that it was only a week. He lived with them year round for ten years; surely he could handle a week. It certainly helped to know that he would be living with Sirius for the remainder of the summer. 

He’d only known his godfather for a short time, but in that time he’d already come to feel more like family than the Dursleys ever did. He had his own room at Sirius’ house; one he’d put together himself, with Harry’s comfort and happiness in mind.  
Well, technically, he had a suite of rooms at Sirius’ house—but the point was the same. It wasn’t the relative luxury of the two rooms that made the difference either; it was the attitude behind them. The Dursleys gave him a room so the authorities wouldn’t pry too deeply into their affairs. Sirius gave him a room because he wanted Harry around, and wanted him to be comfortable and happy.  
 The room at Sirius’ house was certainly nice and all, but it went even further than that.  
Sirius had black hair like Harry did.  
That might seem a minor thing to most people, but to Harry it was another positive point in Sirius’ favor. All three of the Dursleys were blonde. Vernon’s hair was a fairly dark blonde, but it was blonde nonetheless.  
Harry, with his raven black hair, had always stuck out like a sore thumb while with them. Sirius, with his black hair, just like Harry’s, looked like family in a way the Dursleys never did.  
People assumed he and Sirius were father and son when they saw them together.

That feeling of belonging was worth more to Harry than all the gold in Gringott’s. A place to belong was all he’d ever really wanted.  
If all that wasn’t enough, Harry had something else in common with Sirius that he didn’t with the Dursleys: they both had magic.  
   
Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, was about as unmagical a place as one could find, with the exception of number 4—and that was the most unmagical magical place he could have ever imagined.  
It was strange to feel how alien the neighborhood felt after having spent most of the previous year in Hogwarts.  
It wasn’t even the lack of talking portraits, or shifting rooms, or ghosts, or moving staircases—all of which had come to seem almost normal after a year at Hogwarts; it was the very feel of the place.

Privet Drive was completely devoid of magic, with the exception of the wards erected on the Dursleys’ house. He supposed that anyplace would feel devoid of magic after being bombarded with the magic of Hogwarts—but he still thought there was more to it than just that. Privet Drive was in every way the complete opposite of magical. 

All of the houses looked exactly the same.  
There were similar sedans parked in each driveway.  
The lawns were trimmed down to the bare minimum they could be, and everyone had matching flowers in their yard. The men left early to go to work, wearing suits of navy blue, brown, black, or grey, complete with starched white shirts and boring ties.  
The women stayed home, dressed in their suburban housewife best, and spent their time obsessively watching their neighbors in search of gossip, and looking for new purchases among their neighbors that they had to match or better in order to ‘fit in’.  
Exuberance was frowned on. Imagination was viewed with suspicion. Bright colors were disdained.

Just being there made Hogwarts, magic, and the wizarding world seem an impossible dream.  
   
He sighed and kicked at a loose stone lying on the pavement, put his hands in his pockets and started back towards no. 4.  
He had spent the day catching up with the folks he knew in the area: the old guys at the VFW post, the guys at the community center, the librarian at the local public library. He’d managed to while away most of his first whole day back in Surrey, but it was getting late and he needed to return. 

He patted the bottomless pouch at his belt, to reassure himself the wild-growing fruit he’d gathered was safe in the preservation boxes he’d filled and stuffed away. He had no intentions of going hungry during his stay, should the Dursleys get it into their heads to keep him locked up for the week he was there. He refused to ever go hungry again.  
Just as added insurance, he had a few nutritional supplement potions packed away as well. He was already the shortest boy in his class. He didn’t intend to allow the Dursleys poor treatment to stunt his growth irreparably.  
   
As he turned down the block onto Privet Drive, he could actually feel the edge of the wards as he passed through them. He supposed that, with the wards being literally the only magic in the area, it just stuck out to his senses. It was a strange, muffly feeling; like one was being closed in and kept in place. He didn’t like it at all. 

When he finally arrived at no. 4, he halted a moment to study what his senses were telling him now. The house itself felt like it was laden with something; unlike the other things though, this one seemed to pull at him slightly as though it were feeding off of him. 

It was creepy in the extreme, even if the draw was negligible; no one wants to go into a house that feels like it’s eating them.  
He opened the front door, and was immediately assaulted with the ‘dulcet’ tones of Aunt Petunia’s voice. She sounded like a fishwife on a bad day.

“BOY! Get in here. I need you to run down to the store. “

Harry sighed and trudged towards the kitchen. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”  
 

 

Dinner that night was a strange one for the Dursley house. Everyone had a small green salad with a bit of chicken tossed in, and a glass of water.  
Vernon kept poking at it and looking around as though wondering where the rest of dinner was. Dudley looked ready to cry.

“Um…Pet?”

“The school nurse said if Duddy doesn’t keep to his diet, he can’t come back to school—something about their insurance.” Aunt Petunia said stiffly. “Personally, I think the woman’s a quack. There’s nothing wrong with my Duddy, he’s a strong, healthy, strapping boy!” Petunia calmed her ire and began again. “In order to support Duddy on his diet, we’re all going to follow it.” 

Vernon took one look at Petunia’s fierce expression, sighed, and began digging into his salad, looking none too happy. 

Dudley wolfed his down, and looked around hopefully for seconds. 

“That’s all there is Dudley. That’s what the diet said.” Petunia told him. She sounded apologetic, but firm, even though Dudley’s face fell and he looked ready to unleash a tantrum. Petunia obviously expected one, as she braced herself for it. She looked rather alarmed when Dudley simply deflated and asked to be excused.  
 

Harry hurriedly finished his own salad and excused himself as well; he didn’t want to stick around at the table if he didn’t have to. He left to go up to his own room to the sound of Aunt Petunia weeping into her salad and fretting about Dudley starving to death under the nurse’s diet plan. 

Harry flopped down on his bed, dug out a pear and some strawberries, and did his best to ignore the sound of Dudley moaning in his room about how hungry he was.  
There was a part of him that was almost tempted to share some of his fruit, but two things stopped him. The first was that when Harry had gone without food for days, or weeks, at a time, Dudley had taken great delight with taunting him by eating enough to feed a small country in front of him, when he’d have killed for a single slice of bread.  
The second reason was that the school nurse was right; Dudley was dangerously obese. If something wasn’t done, he might very well die of a heart attack before he reached past his teens. 

It was going to be unpleasant in the meantime, but eventually he’d be happy someone intervened to change his diet.

There was actually one more reason: he was pretty sure he, himself, was the only one the house was eating. As the only magical person in the house, he was the only power source available for the wards. To put it bluntly, he needed the food, and the energy, a lot more than Dudley did.  
He wasn’t feeling drained, or even particularly tired, so it wasn’t as though he was being drawn on too dangerously; however, it did make him wonder how he’d ever survived his childhood if, not only were the wards constantly draining him, but the Dursleys had worked him like a dog night and day, and then withheld food on top of it. By all rights he should have just been drained away to nothing. Frankly, it was actually a miracle that he was still alive. 

With that thought in mind, he dug out some more fruit and kept eating.  
   
Once he was finished, he dug out his summer homework. If he was stuck here for a week, he might as well get all of it out of the way so he didn’t have it hanging over his head while he was at Sirius’ house the rest of the summer. It wasn’t as though there was really anything else to do while he was stuck here. He didn’t even have Hedwig to talk to; he’d sent her to Sirius’ house so she wouldn’t be cooped up in her cage while he was stuck here. 

It was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t lonely. 

He let out a gusty sigh and unrolled his first assignment. He read through the questions and stifled the urge to scream. _“And this is just one. Do they do their best to make sure the homework is going to take you the whole summer to complete? They’re a bunch of sadists, I swear.”_

He gathered his books, and sat down at the desk to get started; whining about it wasn’t going to get it done.  
   
 

Harry stayed up till late getting his transfiguration assignment finished. Bright and early the next morning he was up and ready to face the day. He jogged around the block a few times, and did his morning workout in the park, screened by the trees, away from prying eyes. He was back, showered and dressed before the rest of the family woke.

Breakfast that morning was half a grapefruit and water. Dudley seemed a bit more cheerful this morning, but then, Harry’d heard him sneak downstairs around 2 am to raid the refrigerator. The smile disappeared from his face when, after breakfast was over, and Vernon had gone to work, Petunia had made Harry help her clear all the junk food out of the kitchen and put it out with the trash, which would be collected in the morning. When they were done, she’d loaded them both in the car to go grocery shopping. She had the nurse’s diet list clutched in her fist the whole way.

Harry realized then that, while Petunia might be protesting, whatever the nurse had told her about the consequences of Dudley not following his diet must have scared her.  
She seemed to be taking no chances with Dudley going around her again this summer.  
 

 

The next few days were something of a trial for everyone. Aunt Petunia, once she’d made up her mind, actually stuck to pushing Dudley’s diet on him, and making everyone else follow it. Dudley cried, he thrashed, he whined, he howled, he broke things. 

Any time before, Vernon and Petunia would have caved at the first sign of tears. Dudley seemed rather bewildered when, instead of running out and getting him cake and pizza and crisps and sugary sodas, there were just more grapefruits, more salads, and more small servings of tuna without mayonnaise, or small bowls of fruit, at every meal, accompanied by a tall glass of water.

All Harry could say was that he was doubly glad he’d thought to stock up on his own food once more.  
   
If all that wasn’t bad enough, in between temper tantrums and moaning at night about being hungry, Dudley seemed depressed.  
Harry figured his first year at school wasn’t the triumph he’d assumed it would be. 

He was used to being coddled, at home, and having free rein of the school and neighborhood. Everyone knew you didn’t cross Dudley and his boys. No one ever stood up to them, or dared try teasing or bullying them back. 

Dudley had never had anything he’d wanted denied to him. He either took it from some scared kid, or he cried until his parents scurried out to buy it for him.  
Harry was guessing that attitude hadn’t gone over well at Smeltings. 

He also got the impression he’d been teased a lot about his weight, and scolded about how much he ate at meals, and that he hadn’t made many friends.  
For all that Dudley had been nearly sick with excitement about going off to Smeltings last year, Harry didn’t think he was looking forward to going back.

Anyone else, he might have felt a bit sorry for. Dudley, however, had made his childhood a miserable experience. The way he saw it, it was payback, and just desserts.  
He knew, intellectually, that it wasn’t really Dudley’s fault. He’d behaved the way Vernon and Petunia had raised him to behave. Emotionally, he felt vindicated that some of the misery was coming back on him.  
Dudley himself made it very hard for Harry to have much sympathy.  
   
On his second day back on Privet Drive, he had been wandering through the park, when he ran into Dudley and his gang coming back from beating up little kids, or vandalizing the neighborhood, or whatever it was they did for fun these days.  
Dudley’s fat, piggy face had contorted into an ugly grin when he spotted him. He seemed more cheerful and more confident now that he had his posse back, and had spent the day terrorizing the neighborhood.

“Well, well, well” Pier Polkiss sneered. “If it isn’t the freak. What’re you doing freak? Out here playing with yourself or something?”

“Nah, I was playing with your mom. Tell her hi from me when you see her again.” Harry replied calmly.

Piers’ face contorted in perplexed surprise, and then in anger. Dudley began smacking his fist into his open palm, and the other two bristled. 

“Come say that to my face, freak!” Piers growled.

“I just did, you retard.” Harry scoffed. 

“GET HIM!”  
 

The four boys started forward like a herd of charging rhinos. Harry stayed where he was, in a lazy slouch with his hands in his pockets and watched them come. To the boys, he looked like he was frozen in place in fear. In reality, he was studying their approach and planning out his assault. He was going to teach these four here and now that he wasn’t going to put up with any more ‘Harry hunting.’ Those days were behind him forever. 

Piers was in the lead. He swung his fist when he got close enough, but Harry was already in motion. He ducked under Piers’ swinging fist, and kicked him in the back of the knee. He overbalanced, and then went down with a grunt. Gordon and Malcolm, or Dumb and Dumber, as he liked to think of them, were right behind him. Harry squirmed between them, landing a solid blow to each of their guts as he passed. Dudley had frozen just beyond them when, instead of Harry going down, to be held in place so Dudley could punch him at leisure and relieve some of his frustrations, it was his three friends who went down. 

He regained some of his bravado when his boys collected themselves and came back for more. They were spitting mad, and they wanted blood. 

Harry was still unconcerned. He weaved between them like smoke, evading their grasp and scoring numerous hits on all of them. The three boys did more damage to each other than they did to Harry—he kept pulling them into the path of each other’s punches, as well as getting in his own. 

It didn’t take long for all three of them to have enough. None of them had ever been beaten up—they took on opponents four on one, the smaller and weaker the better. A few punches and they were all crying and cringing. He’d seen tiny little kids take a beating from these four better, and with more dignity. 

 Though it seemed to cause them physical pain to do so, in the end they all turned tail and ran for it, crying and clutching at their stomachs. None of them could deal with the idea that their favorite punching bag had just turned the tables on them. The worst part was that he hadn’t even gotten hurt while doing so.  
Dudley watched his gang flee, with a look on his face like his puppy had just died. 

It was a much less confident Dudley that turned back, found Harry still standing there, in the same lazy pose he’d been in when they arrived. He gave a sickly smile and tried to run for it as well. 

“Awww…is the big baby gonna run away?” Harry cooed. “Isn’t that what you said to Timmy Higgs last summer? He was six, you four spent about twenty minutes whaling on him. His eyes were swollen so bad he could hardly see. Or how about Johnny Evans? Two summers ago. He was five. You four spent almost an hour shoving him back and forth between the four of you, after you smashed his truck, and kicked dirt in his face. You were all laughing at him as he ran away. Now, look at you. You haven’t been hit even once, and you’re ready to turn tail and flee, after all your tough talk to all those little kids about what big, sissy babies they were for crying when you and your friends beat them up. Boy, if they could see you now.” 

“Shut up, freak!”

“Right. I’m the freak. I’m not the one who gets off on little kids crying, Dud. If anyone here is a freak, it’s you.” 

“I’ll tell mum and dad!”

“Go ahead.” Harry shrugged. It was amazing the freedom that came from knowing he had options other than Privet Drive.

Dudley’s face contorted as his brain tried to process everything that was going on. He had no framework to understand a world in which Harry-the-freak went around beating on his friends and making them cry and run away, and then had the gall to go back-talking him right after. 

“You….you shut up.”

“Or what? You’ll cry? You’ll thrash around on the ground like a big, overgrown baby and howl? You’ll go stuff your face with cake? Oh, wait, you can’t do that anymore, can you? You’re so fat they’re afraid you’re going to die if you continue on like you were. Looks like it’s going to be salads and grapefruits for you from now on.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“The hell I don’t. The real world isn’t what you thought it was, huh? Turns out the only ones who think you’re a perfect little angel is your mum and dad. Everyone else just sees a fat, stupid bully.” Harry mused as he began sauntering in a slow circle around his cousin. “Smeltings wasn’t too much fun, was it? You got teased, you got pushed around, you didn’t get enough to eat, you didn’t have any friends…. Wow. I just realized… You spent the last year living my life as it was here. “

Dudley’s face drained of blood and he just stared at Harry in dawning horror.

“Not so much fun from the other side, is it, Dud?”

Harry pinned Dudley in place with his gaze. 

“I guess what you need to decide is, where are you going to go from here? Are you going to be a fat, stupid bully forever, or are you going to try to be something more than that?” The intensity of Harry’s gaze lessened, and Dudley slumped in place like he’d just been released from restraints. 

“You tell your boys, Dud. Things are going to change around here. You let them know if I hear about them beating up any more kids, I’ll see to it that they’re each beat twice as bad as the kid was. Just so there’s no misunderstandings, that goes for you too. Don’t think I won’t find out either. I will. It won’t matter if I don’t get around to it till next summer, either. All that means is that they’re going to be getting beat really, really, really bad. Double for each kid will add up pretty quickly.” 

Just like that, Harry turned to leave. “See you around, Dinky Diddums.” 

Dudley stood there a long time after Harry left, staring at nothing. He still couldn’t quite process the new world order that seemed to be in effect. 

 

   
It was a rather subdued Dudley that returned that evening to Privet Drive. He shuffled into the house just in time for dinner—small salads again with more water—and then off to his room once he was done. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking concerned, but they seemed at a loss as to how to make their son feel better.  
Harry stared at Dudley’s closed door for a bit, before heading into his own room to tackle another summer homework assignment. He could admit he was a bit at a loss as to what to do about Dudley either. 

_“I’ll just let it ruminate in the back of my head. Maybe something will come to me.”_  
 

 

By morning, Harry had an idea. A large part of him thought he’d be wasting his time and his breath, but he went ahead with it anyway.  
When he got up to do his morning workout, he went to Dudley’s room and slipped inside, and shook the large boy awake. 

“Huh? Whazzat?”

“Rise and shine, Dinky Diddums. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Harry sing-songed while opening the curtains to let the early morning sunlight in. 

The sun was just creeping up over the horizon, so it was still rather dark at the moment, but it was getting brighter with every minute that passed. Dudley sat up, still half-asleep and with his hair askew, and stared blearily at Harry as though he were insane. 

“What are you doing in my room? You’re not allowed in here! I’m gonna tell mum!”

“Ah Diddums, still crying that same old tune? You’re twelve years old, man. When are you going to stop crying to your mum about every little thing, huh? You think your time at Smeltings is ever going to improve if you don’t learn a new way of doing things?” 

While Harry talked, he crossed to Dudley’s closet and flicked through the offerings there until he found a pair of sweatpants and a very large t-shirt.  
He grabbed both and tossed them to Dudley, hitting him in the face.

“Get out of here. I’m going back to sleep.” 

“Put those on and meet me out front in five minutes…unless you’re too much of a baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” Dudley growled.

“Personally…I don’t think you have it in you. I think you’re weak, and spoiled, and you’ll never be any better than you are right now.”

“I’m not weak.” Dudley protested. “I’m not weak and I’m not a baby.”

He laid back down and closed his eyes defiantly.

“Prove it, Dud. Prove all those people that have been giving you a hard time all year wrong. You’re the only one who can.”  
 

 

Having said his piece, Harry left the room and headed outside. He was going to wait five minutes, and not a minute longer. He figured he’d done more than required already, given he and his cousin’s past history. If Dudley chose to roll over and go back to sleep, that was on him. He checked his watch and started doing his warm-up stretches. When the five-minute mark passed, there was no sign of Dudley. Harry shook his head and kept stretching.

Two minutes later, the door creaked open, and a very uncertain-looking Dudley stood framed in the door, wearing his sweat pants and t-shirt, and still looking half-asleep. He looked surprised to find himself there, but that was nothing on how Harry felt.

“Well. How about that. You’ve managed to surprise me already. The thing is Dud…getting out of bed was the easy part. Can you handle it?”

Dudley scowled, straightened his back and shoulders and waddled out to try staring Harry down.

“I can handle anything you can throw at me, Potter!” 

“We’ll see. Do what I do.” 

Harry started his warm-up from the top, keeping his movements slow so Dudley could copy him. He thought it didn’t bode well that Dudley was starting to sweat already, and they hadn’t even done anything strenuous. 

Once Harry was satisfied that Dudley was a stretched and ready as he could make him, he signaled him to follow him, and set out at a slow jog around the block. Dudley was sweating by the time they were halfway around the block. The second time around, he was red-faced and wheezing like a bellows. When they circled back around to Privet Drive, Harry led him through a cool down stretch. He didn’t want to push too hard too fast—it wouldn’t do anyone any good if Dudley had a heart attack.  
   
Dudley flopped down on the front lawn, still red in the face, his shirt soaked through. Harry assessed him with his eyes and then turned to head out again. 

“Where’re you going?” Dudley panted, without much interest.

“To do my workout.”

“You just did.” Dudley replied, sounding confused.

Harry laughed as he started off again. “That? Psh! That was just the warm-up boyo. You can’t handle an actual workout yet. We’ll have to work you up to that. You should go shower, you’re gonna start stinking if you lay out here too long.” Still laughing, he took off again—running a lot faster than he had been while with him, Dudley couldn’t help but notice. 

Dudley laid there while Harry circled past once, twice, three times. The fourth time he was passing, Dudley heaved himself up and followed him. The faster pace was giving him problems, and he had to keep stopping every half block or so to catch his breath; but each time he pushed himself to keep going. It was bad enough his scrawny little cousin was circling the block again and again while he was trying to catch his breath—he couldn’t just give up. 

The day before, in the park, Harry had looked at him like he was something disgusting he’d gotten stuck on his shoe. A lot of people had been looking at him like that lately. He never wanted anyone to look at him like that again.

He was soaked through, his face was red, and his whole body felt like it was made of wet noodles by the time Harry changed directions and started towards the park. Dudley mustered up some determination that he didn’t even know he had, and stumbled after him.  
 When he finally caught up, he found Harry in a clearing, looking like he was doing ballet or something.

“Tai Chi. It’s a martial art. Just do what I do.” 

Harry didn’t stop what he was doing, he just kept moving in slow motion. Dudley copied him as best he could, but he didn’t mind admitting he felt like a bit of an idiot. He started sweating again almost immediately. He didn’t understand it—moving real slow like they were shouldn’t be as hard as it was.  
He knew he must look a mess—but Harry, damn him, was only sweating a bit, his face wasn’t red, and he wasn’t gasping for air like he himself was.  
When he finally had enough, he stumbled over to collapse beneath a tree. Harry kept going for a while longer.

If that wasn’t bad enough, once he was done with his ballet stuff, he hung from a low branch on a tree and did pull ups, and then he hung upside down and did sit-ups, then he dropped down to the ground and did push-ups…and on and on and on. Dudley was exhausted just watching him. 

Harry chivvied Dudley back to his feet and made him stretch again, along with him, when he was finally done his insane workout. 

As they were walking back to the house, Dudley couldn’t help but feel that he’d never been more tired, worn out, or wrung out in his whole life. No. 4 had never seemed so far away as it did right now. 

Harry made him drink water and lots of it when they got back to the house. He was already thoroughly sick of water; he wanted a soda, damn it! Harry didn’t complain though, so he didn’t either. He was going to show him!  
   
Later, when he was taking a shower, he was thinking how funny it was. He’d taken hundreds of showers in his short life, but this was, without a doubt, the best one he’d ever had. He’d felt really disgusting while peeling off his sodden clothes, and the hot water felt great on his rubbery muscles.

It didn’t occur to him until he was getting dressed, but he’d been so miserable trying to keep up with Harry…he’d completely forgotten how hungry he was. All the stupid water he’d drank seemed to help too. He didn’t feel all hollow, and like his stomach was trying to eat itself. Who knew?  
   
Later, after Harry got out of the shower and came downstairs, he tossed him a pear on his way back out the door. 

“Good work today, Dud.” 

It wasn’t cake, or a big bag of crisps, or pizza, or candy, or a fat, juicy hamburger, or any of the other things he’d been missing so badly all this time—but damn, if it didn’t taste good.  
While chowing down on his illicit pear, waiting for his parents to get up, his cousin’s words rattled around in his head as well. “Good work today.”  
Three simple words, but they felt really good. He’d earned them.  
He went and got himself some more water and drank down a couple of big glasses. It helped, a lot, to relieve the constant hunger than seemed to plague him these days. When he ate down the little bowl of melon and cantaloupe that was that morning’s breakfast, he was surprised to realize he actually felt full. 

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were at a loss to explain Dudley’s sudden turnaround, but neither could deny they were more relieved than they could say when they heard the sound of Dudley’s computer games sounding from his room for the first time since he’d been home.  
 

 

Harry continued to wake Dudley up in the morning to join him in his daily workout. It was alright the second morning…the third took some pushing. All the unaccustomed exercise was catching up with him by that point, and his muscles were sore. 

“Oh, quit your whining, geez. You’re sore, I get that. I’ve been there. I’ve been working out every morning since I was like, eight. I didn’t have anyone to pull me out of bed in the morning. What’s more, I had to go to school and do chores on top of it. Look at you, twelve years old and you can’t even run around the block a few times for three days in a row. I guess you’ll always be Dinky Diddums, huh?”

“Don’t call me that!” 

“It’s who you are, I’m afraid. You’ll be Dinky Diddums till you earn the right to be called otherwise. You haven’t come anywhere near close.” Harry scoffed. 

He increased his speed and left Dudley in his dust.  
Dudley showed up in the park, red-faced and panting, when Harry was halfway through his workout there. He’d started with the individual exercises instead of Tai Chi, giving Dudley the benefit of the doubt.  
Harry dropped down from the tree, and started his tai chi. He didn’t speak to Dudley, or acknowledge that he was there. Dudley seemed to appreciate that.  
It took Dudley a few minutes to get his breath back, but once he did, he got into position and started copying Harry as best he could.

Harry was almost impressed. He really hadn’t thought Dudley had it in him.  
 

Dudley set his alarm on the fourth day, and was up and dressed when Harry came out of his room. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, and nodded. Dudley nodded back. He managed to make it around the block three times that day before he had to stop. Once he cooled down some, he grit his teeth and kept going. He still needed to take a break when they first got to the park, but once he had his breath back, he got into position without a word. Harry could see he was struggling by the time they reached the end of the tai chi portion of the day’s workout, but instead of whining about it like he would have in the past, he grit his teeth and kept going. Harry gave him another pear before he left for the day.  
   
On the fifth day, Harry took Dudley to the VFW outpost to see the guys. 

He had been debating taking him to the community center. The guys there would have gotten Dudley involved in activities, kept him on track with his diet and exercise, and given him some positive role models to emulate. The thing was, Harry had been steering kids Dudley and his gang regularly went after there, so they’d have a safe place to have fun and make friends that would be off the radar. If he took Dudley there, they wouldn’t feel safe there anymore. That left the old guys at the VFW outpost. They were nice old guys, and they had dozens upon dozens of war stories to tell. It had the benefit of giving Dudley positive role models, without the drawback of taking away the neighborhood kids’ safe place. 

They spent a couple of hours there, drinking juice (which they’d started stocking when Harry started visiting) and listening to the old guys. They were full of all sorts of useful advice, told corny jokes, and doled out everyday wisdom in between war stories. As they were leaving, he told the old guys, with genuine regret, that he’d be leaving to spend the remainder of the summer with his godfather in London. 

“Dudley will be around though; he might stop by, so make sure you keep stocking the good stuff, you hear?”

“Oh we will son. You’d best come back, you hear? You haven’t heard about the time Sarge there tried escaping sniper fire and ended up in the middle of an all-female revue, dressed as a woman no less! Can’t miss that one, it’s a doozy.”

Dudley blinked and slanted a look at Sarge, who smiled peaceably and nodded. 

“Uh, I’ll be sure to do that.” Dudley replied uncertainly.

Harry didn’t know whether Dudley would ever take him up on the invitation, but the offer was there should he ever want to.

 

That afternoon, Aunt Petunia took them shopping for clothes. Harry stocked up on everything, much to her dismay.

“I’m a growing boy, Aunt Petunia.” 

Aunt Petunia was ready to berate him, when Mrs. Kinney, one of the old ladies from the senior center, wandered by. 

“Oh, Harry dear! How are you? Goodness, look at all that…you’re not school shopping already? Although…yes, your clothes are a bit tight in places, and your trousers are getting a little short.”

“Are they? Cool.”

“Boys.” She laughed fondly, before turning to Petunia, who was all smiles and sweetness now that they had an audience. “It can be a trial to keep up with them at this age, when they’re sprouting like weeds and roughhousing all over the place.”

“Well, boys will be boys.” Petunia tittered.

Mrs. Kinney went about her way. Petunia kept her smile pasted on and let Harry get what he wanted. She had forgotten for a moment that the blasted boy seemed to know everyone in town. 

“Diddums? Why haven’t you gotten anything?” Petunia turned her attention to her son.

Dudley was holding up a pair of very wide trousers and staring at them. He folded them back up and put them back on the pile.

“If you don’t mind mum, I think I’d like to wait till the end of summer before I get any new clothes.”

“Good thinking, Dud. You’ll probably drop at least a size, if not two, if you keep up with your diet and things.” 

Aunt Petunia, being Aunt Petunia, got misty eyed and clutched her son to her dramatically. “Oh Diddums! My widdle baby is growing up to be such a fine, responsible man!” 

Dudley cringed and patted his mother on the back. 

   
Harry and Dudley went for their last workout together the next morning. 

“You’ve made a good start, let’s see if you can keep it up.”

He held up his hand and then opened his fingers, allowing the measuring tape he held to unroll. 

“Let’s give you something to strive for, huh? Hold up your arms.”

Dudley glared at him, but raised his arms defiantly in the face of Harry’s mocking smile. 

“Forty nine inches around the waist.” Harry announced, reading the result. He rolled the tape measure back up and stuck it in his pocket. “I’m going to bring this with me to the Finch-Fletchley party on the 30th. We’ll measure you again there. Let’s see if you can make any progress.” 

“Finch…the rich freaks?”

“The Finch-Fletchleys aren’t freaks. They’re nice people—and only Justin is a wizard. A wizard, not a freak. Think about this, Dud. Our mums were sisters. My mum was a witch, yours isn’t. I’m a wizard, you’re not; however…you could very well have a kid who is; if not a kid, maybe a grandkid. It runs in families, you know. It’s probably something you should keep in mind for the future. You should think long and hard about how you want to handle it if it happens.” 

Dudley paled as he considered just how close he’d come to living Harry’s life in this house.  
Harry headed up to his room and left Dudley to think.  
   
He put the finishing touch on the last of his summer assignments, packed his trunk and shrunk it to fit in his pocket. He was glad he’d paid extra for the function—the whole no magic in the summer thing sucked. He tidied the room, and headed back downstairs just as the roar of Sirius’ motorcycle came roaring down Privet Drive. 

“Boy.”

“Aunt Petunia. Looks like I’m done here for the summer. The Finch-Fletchleys are going to be having another going-away party on the 30th if you all want to come.”

Aunt Petunia’s eyes gleamed—she’d gotten a lot of mileage out of bragging about the last party to the neighbors.

Harry gave a lazy wave over his shoulder as he headed out. 

A genuine, happy smile broke over Harry’s face when he spotted his godfather perched in the drive on his motorcycle, and ran to him. Sirius smiled back, just as genuinely and enveloped him in a one-armed hug, before tousling his wild black hair. 

“Got everything, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” Harry replied as he climbed into the sidecar. “Let’s go home.” 

Sirius grinned, and some of the darkness that always seemed present in the back of his eyes seemed to lighten. 

“Yeah…let’s go home.” He agreed quietly.  
 

 

While Sirius was turning the bike in preparation to head out, Harry realized something peculiar was happening. The magical shell around the house, the one that had been eating him for the last week, detached from the building and came rushing into Harry. He had to clutch the sides of the sidecar to ground himself through the resulting headrush.  
“Hold on!” Sirius shouted over the motor, once they were out of sight of the neighbors. With a ‘crack’ the bike disappeared from Surrey, and reappeared on Grimmauld Place, just down the block from Sirius’ house. He pulled to a stop in front of no. 12, hopped off and wheeled the bike the rest of the way to where he could park it at the side of the house.  
Harry climbed out of the sidecar, giddy and fidgeting.

“What’s with you?”

“Dunno, something weird happened. I feel like I’ve got too much energy. I’m all jittery, like I just drank a pot of coffee or something.”

“Define weird.”

“Aunt Petunia’s house stopped eating me. It seems to have decided to feed me instead.” 

Sirius just stared at him a moment, before nodding decisively. “Yeah, let’s go chat with Moony, shall we? He’s our resident scholar.”

“Barty’s not here anymore?”

“He’s still around, he’s just not here at the moment. He’s probably off snogging my little cousin again.” 

“TMI, godfather mine, TMI”

“Geez, it’s getting worse. Now you’re talking gibberish.”

“Not down with the modern lingo, eh? Well, you are an old guy.” Harry teased.

“Old? Old? I’ll give you old, brat!”

Harry, laughing, evaded Sirius’ grasp and darted inside. 

Harry nearly ran over Remus when he got inside, and his evasion allowed Sirius to catch him. He threw him over his shoulder to much loud protest, while Remus just watched them bemusedly. 

“Moony, we’ve got a problem. Harry thinks his aunt’s house was trying to eat him.”

“It was, it’s not anymore. Hedwig!”

Harry’s owl had come flying down to see him the moment she felt him enter the house. Harry giggled as she tried grooming him while he still hung suspended over Sirius’ shoulder.

Remus sighed and gestured them towards the next room. “Let’s head into the parlor”

“Step into my parlor said the spider to the fly. Are you a fly now Remus? Is that a step up or a step down from being a werewolf? Did you ever see the movie The Fly? The remake, I mean--it’s way gross. The guy becomes part fly, and he’s all goopy and stuff. Did you redecorate?”

“Harry.” Sirius laughed as he plopped him down on a nearby chair. “You’re babbling.”

Hedwig squawked indignantly and flew to settle on the back of Harry’s chair.

“Headrush. Too much energy. I barely noticed while the house was eating me, but apparently it drained a lot more from me than I realized. I wonder why it gave it back? Do we have food? I’m starving.” 

A plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of iced tea appeared on the coffee table.

“Cool! Thanks, Oddment!”

Harry began helping himself, humming a little tune while he did so, making sure to slip pieces to Hedwig every now and then. Sirius and Remus just watched him and exchanged a perplexed look.

“Has he been like this for long?”

“No, he was perfectly normal when he came out of the house. He hopped in the sidecar, we got ready to leave and he came over all weird.”  
 

 

Deep inside Harry’s mind, he was doing his best to siphon off some of the excess energy the house had suddenly had dumped on him in hopes of quelling his troubling giddiness. Whatever the ward was that had been attached to the Dursleys’ house was, it had detached itself from the premises and was now wrapped around Harry like a protective cocoon, though part of it seemed to be attaching itself to the house around them the longer they sat there, and integrating itself into the wards there. Happily, this house didn’t start eating him when they did so. 

He trained all his senses on deciphering what the wards were doing as they meshed. There were a lot of them; layers of protections that felt recent, and underlying them all were old wards that seemed to reek of blood, death, and sacrifice. The new ward and the oldest ward seemed to communicate in some way—it wasn’t sentience, but more a sense of purpose. The two wards seemed to recognize a similarity of purpose and creation in one another, and after a brief scuffle, settled down and began reinforcing one another. He could see that Sirius and Remus were at least subliminally aware that something was happening, as they broke off their conversation and looked around the room suspiciously, and then blinked when the wards suddenly surged and then settled back down in a slightly stronger configuration.  
   
Harry’s giddiness wore off by the time he was done eating, much to his relief; there was no telling what he might have said in such a condition. Though no longer giddy, he still felt stronger, as though he were overfull with energy. 

“I’m going to go unpack and stuff, okay?”

“In a moment, kiddo. We need to figure out what happened. What did you mean when you said the house was eating you?”

“It was draining energy off me constantly. I noticed it every time I went back to the house, because the drain got a little stronger. There’s another one covering the block the house is on, but that one wasn’t eating me—it just felt uncomfortable, like being wrapped in heavy blankets holding you in place. It the only magic anywhere in the area, so it kind of sticks out; everywhere else around there is like a magical dead zone. It’s so unmagical, it feels like magic shouldn’t be possible or real.” Harry mused. “I never noticed any of it before. I think because I was at Hogwarts all year, and it’s so very magical, that the lack of magic around me just stood out more. When we were getting ready to leave, the ward that had been draining me detached from the house and attached itself to me…or maybe it was always attached to me and was stretched over the house…” Harry said thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think that was it. Whatever it was, it was on me, and someone stretched it and pinned it to the house and made me supply power to keep it in place. For some reason though, those bindings popped, and the thing just snapped back into place over me. It was so full of energy when it snapped back, it’s like I got supercharged for a few minutes. I think it added itself to the wards here. The oldest ward didn’t like it, I don’t think, but it recognized it as something like itself and they joined forces.” Harry shook off his abstracted gaze and nodded. “That’s my theory, anyway.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look. “Well…if that’s all. Why don’t you go get unpacked, kiddo?”

“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”  
 

 

The two men sat quietly and listened to the sound of Harry’s light footsteps pattering up the stairs. When they were sure he was out of earshot, Sirius turned back to Remus and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Alright, talk to me. I saw your face; something he said struck a chord with you. What do you know?”

“Some years ago, after everything first happened, I had asked Dumbledore if I could visit Harry. James and Lily were dead, you were in prison, I had thought Peter was dead….”

They fell into a brooding silence, the both of them, remembering those dark days.

“I just wanted to see him, assure myself there was something left. Dumbledore told me the ministry’s wards were super sensitive and recorded any dark activity…and as a dark creature, I would be sure to set them off.” 

Sirius made an angry noise in his throat; the prejudice Remus so often faced among wizards had never sat well with him. 

“I asked to at least know where he was, so I would know he was safe and well. He tried to put me off, he said it was best not spoken aloud as the walls had ears, and it was for the best that Harry’s location remained a secret. Normally, I probably would have dropped the subject then, but I needed to know. He finally relented and told me he was safe with Lily’s sister and her family. You remember as well as I do all the trouble Lily had with the woman. She told her she was a freak for being a witch, she sent back the wedding invitation she was given, and Lily only found out she had a nephew because she ran into an old neighbor or something. I was, I thought understandably, upset that he was with them. It didn’t seem it could possibly be a good place for him. He told me it was really the only place for him, because not only were they his only remaining family, he said that Lily had invoked old magic to protect Harry. He said he had created a charm to erect blood wards on the Dursleys property based on that sacrifice, and that they offered the strongest protection that could be given against Voldemort so long as he dwelled with his mother’s blood.”  
   
Sirius frowned thoughtfully, and made a note to spend some time in the family library later.

“And what was all that about the wards objecting and then joining forces because they recognized each other!” Remus continued.

“Well…there’s an old story in my family about the building of this place. The story says the family did a ritual to bind this place to our family. The family patriarch at the time was quite old, and supposedly dying of a curse or a disease—that part seems to change depending on who’s telling the story. He wanted to go out on his own terms, doing something useful, so he sacrificed himself, quite messily, and let his blood soak the ground where the foundation was laid, and then they took his bones, ground them up and added them to the mortar used to bind the foundation. I always thought it was a gruesome story to tell the kiddies late at night…but now I wonder.”

“Lovely people, your family.”

“What was wrong with that story? I always actually liked that one. If I had said they lined up a bunch of muggles and slit their throats, I can see you finding it objectionable. I don’t see the problem with someone deciding to sacrifice themselves like that.”

“And you don’t see anything wrong with them grinding up grandpa for building material?”

“If they’d held him down and ground him up while he was thrashing and screaming, it would have been completely different, and apparently it was an actual willing sacrifice if the magics recognize each other as being the same.”

“How is that even possible? To be able to read intention in a ward; I’ve never even heard of such a thing being possible!”

“He was giddy, and apparently that protection was fully on him for the first time since he got it; he might have just been more receptive than usual. My father always said magic was more than just a way of doing tricks, that it was sentient in its own way, and one was best served by respecting that.”  
 

 

Harry, upon reaching his room, started unpacking.

“Oh! Young master is letting Oddment do that!” the house elf scolded, sounding quite scandalized. 

“If you could empty out the top compartment here, I do have some things I want to do in the library.”

“You is leaving it to Oddment.” The house elf said happily. He snapped his fingers and everything removed itself from the top compartment of the trunk and landed in a neat pile on the floor. Harry re-shrunk the trunk and left Oddment putting away clothes and singing a happy tune. 

He headed out through the drawing room and into his library, where he enlarged the trunk and opened the second compartment. He grabbed the main library index—a book that listed all the books in the collection, cross-referenced by author, title and subject. It was a very handy piece of magic, as it not only allowed you to do fairly thorough searches of your collection, it would also summon the books off the shelves when you chose them. 

He settled down at the table in the center of the room with the index, and began summoning out the books he’d collected during his last trip to the come and go room at Hogwarts—it was good to be in a magical house with adult wizards, as it meant he could do magic so long as he was inside without penalty. 

He’d found all sorts of interesting things—history, battle magic, travelogues, law books, dark arts books, several books on runes, arithimancy, rituals, a bunch of books detailing the history and talents of specific family lines—a real haul for any book lover. He felt no guilt about running off with them either; they’d just been sitting in a literal trash-heap for who knows how long!

 Once unpacked, he began the laborious process of adding them all to the index. It wasn’t a difficult process, just time consuming. Once everything was added, he had to find space for everything on the shelves so it could be retrieved. That was when he discovered that his bookshelves had space-enhancement charms on them. The shelves just expanded internally to accept the new books, though they never got any larger on the outside. It was a pretty neat effect; he couldn’t wait to start learning to do stuff like that—he loved magic.  
   
When he was done, he called Oddment.

“You is calling, young master?”

“I didn’t interrupt or anything did I?”

“Oh no, Oddment is being done unpacking, and was just dusting young master’s furniture.”

“Oh, alright. Thanks.”

Oddment beamed and straightened in pride. 

“I was wondering, is there a potions lab anywhere in the house?”

“Yes, is being one in the basement. If you is going down to the kitchen, there is being a doorway off it that goes down some steps. Lab is being down there. Room is being cleaned, but is not really being set up yet for using.” Oddment admitted mournfully. He gave his ears a good twist to punish himself for not having foreseen the young master wanting to use it.

“I don’t really have any supplies laid in to be doing any brewing yet, so that’s alright. If you could, would you take this stuff here down, and maybe get the room set up like it should be? I’d like to have it ready to use when I do get some supplies in. Uh…some of the equipment is dirty, and a couple of them are rusty. It probably all needs a good scouring at the very least.” 

Oddment swooned in delight at having the chance to make up for not having the room already ready to go. He peeked into the trunk where Harry indicated, and snapped his fingers, sending all the potions equipment he saw down to the lab. “Oddment will be cleaning and getting it all set up! He will not sleep or eat until it all is done!” he swore fervently.

“Your dedication does you credit.” Harry replied.

Oddment swooned a bit more, and vanished with a pop to get right to work. The young master would have the cleanest, most organized potions lab to ever exist, if he had anything to say about it!  
 

 

When Oddment was gone, Harry began emptying more things out of the trunk—the room down there had been packed to the brim with stuff he’d gotten from the room of broken things. There weren’t just broken things in there, there was all sorts of things that had no owners and had been stuffed in there to get them out of the way. He had tapestries, rugs, statues and small carvings, crystal and stoneware—a real treasure haul. He busied himself for a while unloading some of the things he’d gotten. 

The library was looking pretty fancy when he was done—he added a couple of tapestries to the walls, laid out a large oriental carpet, a couple of old desks and chairs around the edges, and a couple of large, comfortable leather chairs and a small table with a reading lamp in the open space in the center of the room, beside the table that was already there. The statues, small carvings and oddities, he put in the drawing room in the glass fronted cabinets. He propped some of the interesting stoneware on the mantelpiece, laid out the nice set of crystal decanters and glasses on top of one of the tables, propped up a large gold harp laden with jewels in the corner, and added a few more tapestries to the walls. In his bedroom, he filled the knickknack shelves with little things he’d found, laid out some of the smaller rugs, another smaller set of crystal on a silver tray—a water decanter and a couple of water glasses. He added an antique writing set he’d found to his desk, and an antique brush, comb and mirror set to his dresser, along with a box of silver and pearl buttons, with matching cufflinks, tie-tack and pocket watch to the box of men’s jewelry he already had. The final touch was a large cedarwood chest, finely carved along the sides, with a padded tapestry seat on top that was filled with fancy down comforters with matching pillow covers, and warm blankets.

He’d barely scratched the surface of what all the room had to offer, but he’d been running low on space.  
   
He had only two things left to unload: the training dummy and sword rack he’d borrowed for the summer, and the tiara thing he’d found earlier in the year in the room of broken things when he’d been looking for decorations for the Melting Pot. 

He’d kept stumbling across it, and ignored it, until finally, curious, he’d decided to take a look at the thing. He was rather surprised to realize it was actually Ravenclaw’s diadem; she was wearing it on her frog card, so he was pretty certain it was the real deal. It was silver and sort of fancy, and had the motto ‘wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure’ inscribed across the band. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the thing long term, so for the moment he just put it down in the bottom room of his parents’ trunk, along with Slytherin’s locket. 

If he could figure out what the deal was with the locket and undo it, making it safe to handle and have out, he supposed he could display them both, or maybe just stick them in his vault for safekeeping. He’d worry about it later. For the moment, he wanted to get his training dummy set up; luckily, Sirius had told him about a place in the house that would probably be nearly perfect for his needs. He’d hadn’t practiced at all while he’d been at the Dursleys—he didn’t want to let his practice lapse for too much longer. He was quite looking forward to getting back to his more usual workout now that he wouldn’t have Dudley tagging along.  
   
Harry re-shrunk the trunk and trotted downstairs. Sirius and Remus heard him coming and stepped out to meet him. 

“Hey, Sirius, you said there was a ballroom around here somewhere, right?”

“Yes…”

“Where is it?”

“Down thataway. Why?”

“I need it.” Harry called back over his shoulder as he trotted out of sight.

The two men hurried their steps to catch up. Harry, meanwhile, was opening each door he encountered and peeking his head inside. 

“Aha!” he finally chortled. Sirius and Remus halted in the doorway and watched as Harry re-expanded his trunk, opened it, and levitated out a wooden man and a rack of swords.

“Uh, Harry? Want to explain?”

“I asked Hogwarts if I could borrow him for the summer; I didn’t want to get rusty.”

“Sword-fighting, huh? And you got that from Hogwarts? Where’d you find him?”

“On the seventh floor.” Harry replied truthfully. “I’ve been practicing with him all year. There’s a whole bunch of them—I had a couple of them attack me in unison once. Bad idea; I had bruises all over.” 

“Oh yeah? Let’s see what you got. I haven’t touched a sword since I was a child; I’m probably badly out of practice.”

“You used to sword fight?”

“I had basic fencing lessons as a child—it was considered a gentlemanly art, that I and my brother needed to master, along with dancing and etiquette and other such things. I had a lot of lessons as a kid.” He mused. “I hated it…a lot of it did come in useful later. I suppose I should see you get dancing lessons”

“Already covered. Draco organized lessons for all the first and second years. The Grey Lady covered everyone else later.” 

“Oh…good.”

Harry selected his sword and moved into position. “Training mode, level three.” He said in a clear, firm voice.

Remus started and his hands clenched at his sides as the dummy came to life and lunged without warning. He leaned forward as though ready to leap in a snatch the boy from harm’s way, but Sirius’ upraised hand stopped him. Remus tried to calm down and watch what was happening. Although at first sight Harry looked like he’d be easily overwhelmed at any moment, the contest wasn’t nearly so unequal as it seemed. The dummy’s greater height and reach gave it a decided advantage, but Harry was up to the task. 

For about twenty minutes they were treated to a battle royale with wooden swords; the ‘clack, clack, clack’ echoed and reechoed through the room; a strange music indeed for the ornate ballroom. Harry eventually began growing tired and called a halt—the dummy never slowed down or got tired; in fact, at level three it slowly grew faster and swung harder the longer the fight went on, forcing you to muster up all your fighting spirit to keep going. It was a good training tool, and quite effective, Harry thought. Level three was his favorite – level one followed a normal human fatigue trajectory, and level two stayed at the same rate throughout.  
   
Remus and Sirius both clapped when he was done.

“Not bad kiddo. I can see you’ve really been putting the effort in.” 

“Every morning, bright and early. Obviously, I haven’t been keeping up with it this past week. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wouldn’t have appreciated an animated training dummy in their living room, and besides, I was busy in the mornings trying to whip Dudley into shape.” 

Sirius blinked in surprise; he hadn’t thought the cousins got on very well.

Harry briefly outlined what he had surmised about Dudley’s year at Smeltings, gave a blow-by-blow account of Dudley and his gang’s failed attempt to beat him up earlier in the week, and the resulting training regimen he’d goaded Dudley into later.  
Sirius and Remus had both looked briefly uncomfortable when Harry had ranted about jerks who went around harassing people four-on-one, though they had agreed, perhaps a bit too heartily, that Harry had acquitted himself well under the circumstances. 

He had wandered off after a bit to go see the garden, which the elves had finally whipped into shape, and to explore the rest of the house—something he’d not gotten to do as much of as he would have liked while he was there for the Christmas holidays.  
   
Harry spent the rest of the day happily roaming Grimmauld Place. The place was a veritable wonderland for a curious child—there were hidden rooms and passages all over the place; all it took was some patience and an eye for details to find them. On top of that there was the attic. That place was a treasure trove of old stuff—trunks and boxes and wardrobes full of old clothes and hats and boots and furs, boxes and boxes of decorations for holidays, piles of old furniture and bedding, both adult sized and child sized, and boxes and boxes of toys, many of which looked to be quite ancient and well-loved. 

There was a set of army action figures you could set up and set to battling, a set of clowns in a box that, when released, would caper about and do tricks for you, a set of blocks that could change their color and texture to look like stone or wood, or brick, with which you could build a castle or a miniature city, an animated horse that would caper around the room with you on its back, miniature siege engines that would launch small balls that would make noises and smoke when they landed, and could be reset to work again and again, a matched set of miniature fireplaces filled with illusionary fire, which he could only assume were the wizarding version of walkie-talkies, child sized brooms that stayed a foot or so off the ground and would fly slowly for short distances…

For a child like Harry who’d never been allowed to have even the simplest toys, it was a marvelous find indeed.  
   
When Harry didn’t reappear for dinner, Oddment was sent to find him. Harry had been so engrossed in playing that he’d quite lost track of time. Oddment snuck back up to the attic once he was gone and gathered up all the toys he’d been playing with and put them down in his room. Later that night, when Sirius walked Harry to his room to tuck him in—even though Harry bashfully insisted it wasn’t necessary, they found them there.

“Geez, where did all these come from?” Sirius laughed upon seeing them.

“Oh…I found them in the attic. Oddment must have brought them down. I can put them back…”

“I’m not mad, kiddo, I was just surprised. I haven’t seen this old stuff in…Merlin, at least twenty years or more.” He laughed suddenly, a sound like the bark of a dog. “That old horse… that one was Reg’s, mine was a palomino. I used to chase Reg all over until he’d go crying to mother. I tried leaping down the stairs on it; I knocked myself silly and broke the horse; mother was fit to be tied…Oh! The siege engines! We used to have more fun with those! We’d build up walls and castles and knock them down…” 

“That’s what I was doing when Oddment came to get me.” Harry admitted. 

Sirius grinned and dumped out the box of pieces. “A quick castle and knock down shouldn’t take too long, right?” 

Harry grinned back and dove in to help him start building.  
 

 

   
“Oh, hey Remus.”

“Barty. How’s Nymphadora these days?” Remus asked distractedly.

“Finally agreed to let me call her by her first name, so long as I shortened it to Dora. I told her it was strange calling my girlfriend by her last name, and she finally relented.”  
Remus snorted in amusement and shook his head. “Her name might be somewhat unusual, especially among muggles, but I never did understand why she hated it so very much.”  
“I think it was more than the name itself, it was what it represented—her mother’s roots. She has a real complex about the extended family. I suppose I can understand it—her mother’s twin sister is infamous for her vicious attack on an auror couple; I guess with her being an auror herself…I told her she was being silly. She didn’t appreciate it much.”

“I imagine she didn’t. You know yourself that family can be complicated.”

Barty nodded noncommittally. “What are you doing anyway? This looks like a major research kick.”

“I’m trying to see what I can find out about blood wards.”

“Blood wards? Most blood magic has been outlawed for some time now, due to a family feud that wiped out thirty eight people in 1801.”

“Thirty eight people?”

“It was an ill-considered bloodline curse; the caster made it a bit too general. It was something like ‘may you and all your blood die horribly’. It hit the person it was cast on, traveled down to his children and grandchildren, and sideways to his siblings, then his cousins, took out his parents too. The thing was, the caster was his second cousin, so it traveled to that family and started taking all them out as well, and then kept going. When it was realized what was happening a group rushed to gather up the last members left of the families and disown them from the bloodline through a ritual. They weren’t even sure it was going to work. Happily, it did, or none of us would likely be here today.”

“How horrible.”

“Yeah. Anyway, with mishaps like that being all too possible from an ill-considered curse cast in a moment of anger, it was thought best to just outlaw the whole discipline. I can understand why it was done, but part of me thinks it was a bit of overkill to outlaw the whole discipline like that. There were positive uses for blood magic—you can’t build wards the way our ancestors did, for example, not and stay within the law. All the old family seats have blood incorporated into their foundations.”

“It’s funny you should mention that…Sirius was saying earlier that his long-ago grandfather sacrificed himself”

“Blood soaking the foundation, ground bones in the mortar? Yeah, you’ll find a lot of families with a story like that…of course, it’s only icky dark wizards who acknowledge the truth of those stories. Sadly, many light wizards refuse to acknowledge that such things ever happened in their family. They did, of course. The definition of what was ‘dark’ magic has changed so much with each generation”  
   
Remus shifted a bit uncomfortably; he had of course realized this, but for so much of his life he’d been forced to develop an almost automatic horror reaction to any mention of dark magic, that it made him uneasy even hearing it discussed so blandly, even in theory.

“So, why are you researching blood wards, exactly?”

“Oh, well…something odd happened earlier.” Remus replied. He explained what they knew of what Harry had told them earlier, as well as his own discussion with Dumbledore on the matter.  
He was rather taken aback when Barty looked furious.

“Why so many people slavishly name that man the greatest bloody wizard who ever lived I’ll never know! The gall of the man! It’s disgusting how far the educational standards of wizards have fallen if he can go around telling bald-faced lies like that and have them be believed and accepted without question!”

“Barty, what…”

“The sacrifice of a life—a willing sacrifice, of a young mother, at her peak—that isn’t something that wears off or just goes away! Hell, even an old decrepit man at the end of his life can pack quite a whammy with a willing sacrifice—it was usually the oldest and most decrepit member of the clan that offered themselves up to be part of the foundations of the family seat. In every case, it happened centuries ago, but that sacrifice, that protection, still lingers—reinforced by the blood, _and the magic,_ of the family that dwells there. The only thing that would come of stealing that protection to stretch it over a family of muggles is to weaken it! None of them have any magic to reinforce it, which means it’s been being eroded for the last decade! Instead of full coverage for one person, it was full coverage for four—three of which were taking but giving nothing back! If he’d left it alone, it would easily have lasted his whole life, and probably passed down somewhat to his children, possibly even his grandchildren. As it stands, with his interference, it will probably be lucky if it lasts till he’s seventeen! I’m not surprised the kid could feel the bloody house eating him! He was being called on to supply power enough for four people, not one, because he was the only one who could!”

“I had been wondering about that myself.” Sirius spoke up from the door. “When Moony there was telling me, it jogged a memory. I was going to research, but I see he’s beaten me to it.” 

He came in and sat down at the table with the other two. “I wonder how the protection bonding with the foundation magic here will affect it?”

“It might help undo some of the damage done by stealing it to give it to muggles.” Barty sighed “I just don’t know. What the hell was he thinking? Why would he weaken his protection like that? He practically spit on his mother’s sacrifice. She didn’t sacrifice herself for her sister and her family, she sacrificed herself for her son. He had no right to steal that from him.” 

“None of this makes any sense though! He has to know—the fact that he could whip up a blood ward on the fly says as much—outlawed magic or not, he’s obviously well acquainted with the discipline. He must realize what he did. Why would he do this?” Remus demanded.

“A sacrifice of a life for a life would explain why Harry survived that night—he would have been untouchable by Voldemort’s magic. He wouldn’t have been able to act against him. It’s an old magic, and a powerful one. The only reason there could be to weaken it would be to make it so Voldemort could act against him—to wound or kill.”

“Dumbledore has been saying since the end of the last war that Voldemort wasn’t dead, and that he would return someday to start things up again. If that’s true, it makes this whole thing even more unfathomable. If he does come back, he’s going to want revenge against Harry, if only to prove to his followers that he can best the one who bested him. I know some things have come to light recently that make some of Dumbledore’s actions questionable…but plotting out the demise of a child? I can’t honestly believe that.” Remus protested. 

“Back before I went to Azkaban, I probably would have agreed with you, full stop. A decade filled with dementors feeding on me ‘round the clock… We all joined the Order to make a difference, and because we believed Dumbledore would be the man to end things. I’ve read some of the histories of the war, what little was actually written. They all make it sound like Dumbledore was single-handedly fighting the war—the only one Voldemort ever feared and all that. The man never crossed wands with Voldemort that I know of. Those of us in the Order did—and 80% of the Order is now dead, or in St. Mungo’s. None of those histories even mention Frank and Alice as anything but sad pathetic victims who were taken out after it all was over. They both fought Voldemort himself three times, and his followers on numerous occasions, as did I, as did you, as did Moody, the Prewitt brothers… Dumbledore was at Hogwarts, he’d show up for meetings, ask for reports, give out orders and go back. He was at Hogwarts during the summers too, for the ICW meetings; they’ve been held there ever since he became the head. He wasn’t out fighting, he wasn’t out stopping Voldemort. Those histories make a big deal about Hogwarts never being attacked, but why would it have been? All the death eaters' kids, their cousins, siblings—their whole family or parts of it would have been there. He wouldn’t have held on to his followers for very long if he led them out to kill their kids, would he?”  
   
“If Harry can’t be touched by Voldemort’s magic…even if that's not what happened, if it was the killing curse that did it, he shouldn’t have a scar.” Barty mused. Remus and Sirius turned to look at him. 

“Has anyone actually ever looked at the thing? Do we even know what it is? If it was done pre-sacrifice, it might be the key. It might be the reason for weakening the protection, though I can’t think of a reason, or what it could be…”

“Maybe he tried doing something to render him incapable of vanquishing him and it didn’t have the effect intended because of the protection? Maybe it reversed it? Maybe if it had worked as intended, Voldemort would have had that scar and Harry would have been cursed in some way—instead, Harry bears the scar and Voldemort bears the consequences?”

“Render him incapable of vanquishing him? What?”

“Oh, yeah…there was a prophecy or something about Harry taking out Voldemort. That’s why James and Lily went into hiding—Harry was being targeted. Harry is the reason they hid.” 

“Prophecies.” Remus scoffed.

“Well, yeah, Dumbledore apparently didn’t put much stock in the idea either; he told James and Lily that Voldemort was the sort who would though.”

“Why are you all scoffing? Prophecies are a real enough phenomenon. There’s supposed to be a whole department dedicated to prophecies in the department of mysteries, or so I’ve heard.” 

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter whether or not we believe in prophecies, we should focus ourselves on figuring out what the deal with Harry’s scar is, and what Dumbledore was trying to accomplish by weakening his mother’s sacrifice.”

“I’d like to help…I won’t be able to just yet though.” Barty spoke up.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going away for two weeks on vacation.”

“Barty…you don’t have a job. Why do you need a vacation?”

“I’m not going to be alone.” Barty replied quietly.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I’m not going to be alone.” Barty repeated, as his cheeks grew slightly pink.

“You wouldn’t perhaps be planning to go somewhere with my little cousin, are you?”

Barty’s face grew pinker and he nodded.

“Well.” Remus replied, sounding amused.

Sirius looked flummoxed for a moment, and then his face grew stern. “What, exactly, are your intentions here?”

Barty’s face grew redder still, and he swallowed audibly at the look on Sirius’ face. He fumbled with his pocket for a moment, and then drew out a small box, which he set on the table.

“Is that…?”

Barty nodded.

“Can I?” Sirius asked as he pulled the box towards himself. Inside was a ring with a large sapphire edged with diamonds. 

“Is this…?”

“My mother’s. It was in the family vault.”

Sirius let out a low whistle, Remus smiled. “Congratulations.” Remus offered.

Barty let out a shaky breath, took back the ring, which he stared at for a moment before putting away. “Not just yet…I still have to get up the gumption to actually ask her. I’ve been carrying that thing around with me for a month already.” 

“You’d best see you get up your gumption while you’re off on vacation.” Sirius warned. “If you’re taking vacations together, it’s already more than time for this issue to be settled.”

“That was the plan.” Barty assured him. 

Sirius studied the other man, weighing his sincerity. Satisfied by what he found, he nodded, then grinned. “I’d say welcome to the family…but we’re already cousins so it seems a bit redundant.” 

Barty laughed, Remus sighed, Sirius grinned some more.


	2. The stone and the Interloper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds something he'd forgotten he had, Remus is cranky, and a new face on the scene sends Harry into a bit of a tizzy.

“Hey, Sirius? Is it okay if I have some visitors?”

“Visitors? Like who?”

“Just some of the guys. You know that building set? And the siege engines? And the army guys? They’ve all got them—even Ron, it turns out, because his uncles had them and him and his brothers more or less inherited all their stuff when they died.”

“That’s nice. What’s it have to do with anything?”

“I mentioned that while it’s fun and all, it would probably be a lot more fun with company. If it’s okay, they’re all gonna come over and we’re going to either build one really complicated city, or a bunch of small ones; we haven’t decided yet. Draco offered up the use of his ballroom, but his mother peeked to see what he was writing and had a fit. I told him you were already letting me use ours for sword practice, so you probably wouldn’t care if we had a war in there as well.”

Sirius blinked, and then shrugged. “Sure. Go ahead. Knock yourself out. On second thought, forget that last one.”

“Great! Thanks!” 

Harry approached the grumpy-looking eagle owl that had followed him down, scrawled a quick reply to Draco’s letter, and attached it to the bird’s leg, before sending it on its way. Hedwig made reproachful noises, to remind him that he had a perfectly good (and infinitely superior) mail owl of his own who could carry his letters just fine, thank you.

“Don’t worry, girl, I’ve got letters for you too. It just made sense to send that one back with Mordred, since he was going there anyway.” Harry assured her. “I guess take the ones to Dean and Seamus first, they’re nearby, then Ron, then Neville. Oh, that reminds me…are you up for carrying a very tiny package as well?”

Hedwig examined the small box he held up, eyed the small letter scrolls he was rolling up and gave a slight bow, before puffing her chest and making a noise that seemed to say ‘I can do that and more! What else ya got?”

Harry attached three of the small letters to Hedwig’s one leg, and the last and the small package, which was about the size of a walnut, to the other, before carrying Hedwig to the window and helping her launch. 

   
“Did you give anyone a specific time or date?” Sirius suddenly asked.

“No, I just said that you’d agreed we could use the ballroom. Draco is going to find out when his people are free and allowed to come over, and I’m finding out from mine, then we’ll compare notes and find a day we can all get together. Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking, the full moon is coming up. Remy usually starts feeling a bit run down as it approaches. He’s not going to be much in the mood for a bunch of kids running around carrying on…and the day after is even worse. He’s usually in pretty bad shape. The transformation takes quite a toll on him.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized. I’ll keep it in mind. How bad is it?”

“I’ll be with him, so it won’t be as bad as it could be, but years of transforming alone have left him pretty run down. You’ve seen the scars.”

“His hair’s all grey too. He’s only what, thirty something? McGonagall is seventy and her hair is still black. Remus looks older than she does.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, but yeah… It’s a combination of things—the transformation itself is difficult, but there’s also the fact that he worries himself sick about it all the rest of the month, and then when’s he’s alone, he tends to chew on himself, and he was alone for a good many years while I was in prison. If that’s not bad enough, he can’t find a regular job—wizards figure out what he is after a few months when he has to take a sick day on the full moon, and the only folks who are allowed to work in the muggle world are Ministry folks, as part of their jobs, either undercover, or on protection detail.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Secrecy, but yeah. I happen to agree with you there. I can name a number of purebloods who, honestly, it would probably be a bad idea to set them loose in the muggle world, because they don’t know anything about it. Remus is a halfblood, he knows how to blend. There’s no real reason he shouldn’t be allowed to get work in the muggle world if he can find it—but as a dark creature it isn’t allowed because of secrecy concerns. If he’s found, working among muggles, it’s an automatic sentence in Azkaban. There’s a lot of prejudice out there against werewolves. There always was to some degree, but they sided with Voldemort during the war, so it’s gotten worse.”

“That’s not right. Remus doesn’t deserve that.”

“No, he doesn’t.”   
   
 

 

Harry headed up to his room to find something to do. He saw his belt pouch on top of his dresser and went to retrieve it. “I’ve been stuffing stuff in there all year. I’m not even sure what all is in there anymore.” He tapped the thing with his wand, upended it and said ‘release all’.

A veritable mountain of junk came pouring out and landed on the bed in a heap. 

“Geez, it’s even worse than I thought.” 

He busied himself sorting through everything—extra quills, ink and parchment, gloves, hat, scarf, books, candy, a shiny red stone, the floo address of all the folks in the Melting Pot…

“Hold on.” Harry said out loud. He glanced back at the shiny red stone he had just set aside and his face went slack with realization. “Oh, right…the philosopher’s stone. Geez, it’s been rolling around in there all this time; I had all but forgotten about it.” He laughed.

He weighed the stone on his palm and tossed it hand to hand while he thought. 

“You’re supposed to be able to make gold with this. I don’t really need gold…though I suppose it will be nice to have it in reserve if necessary. You’re also supposed to be able to make the elixir of life. I suppose that’s nice and all—but who wants to be an immortal eleven year old? Not me, I’ll tell you that.”

He was about to set the stone aside, when Hermione’s words the night of the fire came back to him. _“You know who wants it to restore himself.”_

His recent talk with Sirius about the wear and tear being a werewolf had on Remus, which is probably what made him really consider what Hermione said that night. You-know-who wanted it for its _restorative properties_  
.   
“What if that’s how it works? It turns back the clock on you physically…except, it would have to leave your mind intact, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t be a viable method of immortality otherwise, would it?”

His mind began to race as he really considered the implications of that. 

“I could slip a bit to Remus and undo some of the werewolf damage…and Sirius…I could slip him a bit and undo a decade in Azkaban.”

He looked down at the stone in his hand and nodded, determined. 

“That’s just what I’ll do. I won’t tell them what I did, of course. I guess I should hit the books and see if I can figure out what one is supposed to do with the stone to make the elixir. Maybe I should start with finding out exactly what an elixir is…it might give me a clue about what I’m supposed to do.”  
 

 

It took Harry a little while to find a definition for elixir: a pharmaceutical preparation usually consisting of an active ingredient dissolved in a solution of alcohol.  
He sat back and considered that. 

“So, I guess the stone is alcohol soluble? So, I guess I break off a little piece, grind it up into powder, and dump it in alcohol.”

As he was considering the information, he remembered something Sarge, one of the old guys at the VFW outpost said once: ‘The word whiskey is a corruption of a Gaelic word meaning ‘the water of life’.   
It was like having an epiphany. 

“Hey Oddment?” Harry said out loud. 

“You is calling Oddment, young master?”

“Yeah…do we have any bottles of whiskey in the house?”

“Well, yes…but young master should really not be drinking.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to drink it. I’m going to make an elixir and I need alcohol to do it.”

“Oh, that’s completely different!” Oddment agreed, snapping his fingers. A bottle of whiskey appeared on the table. “Will the young master be needing anything else?”

“No, that was it.” 

A quick search through his things revealed his school potions equipment. He carefully chipped off a small piece of the stone, ground it up to powder, and dumped the result into the bottle and shook it up. The whiskey inside took on a reddish luster, as though a fire were burning deep within the liquid inside. 

“Well, I guess all that’s left is to test it.” 

He called Oddment back and had him fetch a shot glass, which he carefully filled with whiskey, and then he went off in search of Remus.   
Remus was in his room, reading, and answered the door after a couple of knocks.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Here, drink this.”

“Uh…”

“I know it smells like whiskey, but it's actually a healing elixir I made to make you feel better. Sirius told me the full moon is really hard on you.”

Remus’ gaze softened and he gave Harry a small smile. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Harry, but you really needn’t worry yourself. I’m fine, really.”

“You mean you don’t want it?” Harry asked sadly.

Remus sighed, laughed a bit and took the shot glass from Harry with a slightly put-upon air about him. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make your gift go to waste, I suppose.” 

He held the shot glass up in a mock salute. “Bottoms up!” he announced, and then downed it in one swallow. He gasped just a bit as it went down, and smacked his lips. “Ogden’s, was it? Smooth.” 

Harry watched him closely for some sign of change, but nothing seemed to be happening. 

_“Geez…I hope I wasn’t supposed to dissolve the whole stone.”_ He thought to himself with some disappointment.

“I guess it didn’t work. You don’t look any different.”

“It was a nice thought, regardless.” Remus assured him. He was about to close the door and go back to his reading when an odd look crossed his face. 

“Remus?”

“Harry…what exactly was in that stuff any….” His voice trailed off and he disappeared.  
 

 

Harry stumbled back in shock and stared at the pile of clothes now laying in Remus’ doorway. He was about to have a full-blown panic attack, wondering how he was going to explain to his godfather that he’d accidentally vanished his best friend, when he realized the clothes were moving. Half afraid of what he would find, he poked through them, and revealed a baby, one with very familiar features, who was looking at him with a reproving gaze. He seemed to be trying to talk, but he was too young to have proper control over his vocal chords, or his limbs—a fact which he had seeming discovered, and wasn’t too happy about, to judge by the indignant wailing and flailing he suddenly indulged in.

“Oh boy.” Harry muttered to himself. “Oddment! Winky! Help!”

Oddment and Winky—Barty’s house elf—both appeared at his call and stared at the baby.

“Where he is coming from? You is being too young to be having babies, Winky is sure of that!” the female house elf exclaimed. 

“It’s Remus. I gave him an elixir I made, but it seems to have turned him into a baby. I’m going to need to brew an ageing solution. Could one of you take care of him, and the other get me the ingredients I need?”

Winky nodded decisively and picked up the baby. “Oddment is going shopping for yous. Winky is having experience with babies.” 

“Great, you do that. Oddment, come on, I need to make a list of stuff I need.”   
   
 

Harry paced worriedly in the potions lab while waiting for Oddment to return. 

“All right, calm down. Remus is fine, he still has his mind, that much was obvious. It’ll be fine once I age him back to where he’s supposed to be. Note to self, figure out how much elixir to how many years so I don’t accidentally make Sirius a baby too. In fact, I can do that right now.”

The potions lab was, much as Oddment had promised, the cleanest most well-organized lab Harry had ever seen. Of course, as this was only the second potions lab he’d ever seen, and the other was regularly used by rambunctious school-children who tended to blow things up, that wasn’t actually saying a lot. It was a nice space. There were cabinets, in which the pilfered equipment Harry had brought home with him was neatly stored: scales and knives and beakers and tripods, cauldrons ranging in size from very small to very large in several different materials, vials and racks to hold them, a range of stirring rods in different materials, mortar and pestles of different sizes for different jobs, protective gear, measuring cups, there were rolls of parchment and dictation quills, so you could take notes while brewing. There were cabinets for storing ingredients, others for finished potions. There were several counters as well, both to tend active potions, and to store ones that were in process, complete with shielding to keep them from being interfered with in mid-brew. In short, it was a very good lab, intended for a master brewer. He could only hope his own house had facilities as nice, or he was going to be spoiled living here.   
   
Harry still had the shot glass he’d fed the elixir to Remus with. He rinsed it out, filled it with water, and dumped the water out into a measuring cup. He was busily doing calculations when Oddment appeared with two sacks full of potions ingredients.

“Oddment, good. Did you find everything?”

“Oh yes, mans at the apothecary is being very helpful.”

“Did you have enough money for everything?”

“Oh yes, young sir is not worrying. Oddment is also having good news! When he is setting up lab, the Master is asking why. When I is telling him the young master was wanting to use the lab he is sending off an order to fill it with basic necessities for common potions. The order was being ready when Oddment is going there, so I is picking that up as well.”

“Oh, great. Um…I guess just unload everything into the storage closet there. I can go through it later and see if there’s anything else I need. I guess leave the stuff for today’s potion on the counter there and I’ll get started.”

Oddment nodded and put the smaller of the two sacks on the counter and then hurried to the walk-in storage closet to start unloading everything else.   
Harry finished his calculations and then set it aside to get started. Thankfully, the aging solution was fairly simple, and one well within his abilities as a brewer. It was normally used by gardeners to speed the growth of plants, but it was safe enough for human consumption. More importantly, since it was such a common potion, its effects were well-known and documented—he could whip up an almost exact portion to return Remus to his rightful age, no guesswork involved. Even better than that was the fact that, due to having his mother’s old potion book—which had all the extra steps and changes that Snape usually put up on the board—he would be able to make a perfect potion, even though they hadn’t actually done that particular one in class yet. “Thank goodness for small favors.”   
   
   
Sirius wandered into the kitchen, and wondered where everyone was.

“Hey, Winky. Smells good, what is it?” he asked.

“Is being stew and fresh bread.”

“Can’t wait to eat it. Do you know where Harry is?”

“He is being in the potions lab and is being busy right now.”

“Oh…weird kid. How about Remus?”

“You is leaving werewolf man alone. He was being very cranky earlier and has only just gotten to sleep!” she commanded fiercely.

“Okaaaay. I’ll leave him be then. Geez.” 

Sirius wandered out of the kitchen, wondering what to do with himself. He stopped suddenly as a wonderful idea occurred to him.

“Hey…Winky…is there enough stew for one more?”

“Oh yes, there is being plenty. Winky made sure to make lots. Children is needing to eat properly so they is growing right.”

“Good. Good. I’m going to go make a quick floo call. Plan on one more for lunch, would you?”  
 

   
“Alright, the potion is done. Do we have any baby bottles in the house?”

Oddment nodded and vanished to the attic to unpack one from storage. He returned a few minutes later with it in hand.   
Harry carefully filled the bottle with a measured dose of potion that would, in theory, return Remus to his rightful age and size. 

“Okay, I guess just feed it to him. He’s a baby, so he should start sucking the moment the bottle is in his mouth, even if he’s asleep.”

He started to hand over the bottle, and then realized there might be reason to give further instruction.

“If he’s in baby clothes, or wearing a diaper or anything, you should probably remove them. He’s going to start growing pretty quickly once the stuff is in his system.”

Oddment nodded to show he understood, took the bottle and vanished with a pop.

Harry bottled the remaining potion, cleaned up the work area, put away the cauldron and other equipment he’d used and then moved to the storage cupboard to see what all Oddment had brought home with him earlier.

His jaw nearly dropped when he looked around. Where just an hour ago had been empty shelves was now filled with row after row of neatly labeled jars and boxes. He had a bit of everything to make all the common potions he’d read about. He spent a bit of time rearranging things more to his liking, and then left the lab to see what his godfather was up to.  
   
Upon reaching the main floor, the sound of a woman’s laughter drew Harry towards the front parlor. He crept up quietly, wondering who was in there. Once close enough, he peeked around the corner and found his godfather and a woman he didn’t know seated within. He took a moment to puzzle out the weird look on his godfather’s face, and realized with some horror that, whoever the woman was, Sirius fancied her like mad. 

He really wasn’t sure how he felt about this development. 

On the one hand, Sirius certainly looked happy.  
On the other hand, he rather liked things just the way they were at the moment. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of some interloper coming in and messing up the comfortable balance they’d all struck.  
On the other hand…Sirius was long past the age most of his peers were when they’d gotten married. He’d spent a decade in prison; if anyone deserved a chance to be happy, it was him.   
On the other hand, a woman, and a possible marriage, would mean kids.

Harry had only just gotten Sirius; he didn’t want to lose him already. He was under no illusions that he’d be anything but a distant second fiddle if his godfather were to have a son of his own. He’d learned that lesson very well at the Dursleys house; one’s own child was infinitely preferable to burdensome orphan. 

Obviously, the woman was going to have to go.

He had a home and a family for the first time in his life—his long ago time with his parents didn’t really count; he couldn’t remember them at all.   
He wasn’t going to give that up, not when he’d just gotten it. 

It was time, he supposed, for him to meet the interloper. She needed reminding that Sirius was a package deal, and she needed to learn that he wasn’t going to be won over as easily as his hormonal godfather had been.   
 

   
Remus woke up, naked as the day he was born, sprawled across his bed, with the taste of whiskey in his mouth. He’d had a strange dream—he’d been trapped in something dark and cloying, and then he’d been carried around by a gigantic house elf, given a bath and stuffed into a diaper, before being rocked to sleep. 

“I guess I should lay off drinking? Why was I drinking?” he wondered to himself. 

He’d been feeling poorly, due to the upcoming full moon. Maybe that was why? He always had a bit of trouble sleeping as the full moon approached. The coming moon had been shaping up to be particularly bad—he’d been out of sorts all week. 

He’d been seized with a rather morbid mindset lately, ironically enough because things were mostly going well. Such times in his life had always been few and far between; he supposed he’d just been waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He had a place to live, plenty to eat, he had one of his old friends back, and had made another. He still had few job prospects, but as Sirius was letting him stay for as long as he liked, that wasn’t the worry it normally was. His transformations over the last year had been easier, for the most part, due to having company…but the toll they were taking on him was still considerable. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the damage he’d done to himself during a decade of transforming alone in a locked room had built up over the years. He’d gotten used to having a number of odd aches and pains, being tired all the time, and looking older and more haggard with every day that passed. He supposed he’d been wondering if he were just going to die one of these days, because it was eventually just too much for his broken-down old body to handle anymore. He got depressed just looking at himself. In fact, he’d removed the mirror from the bathroom, so he wouldn’t have to see a scarred, haggard old man looking back at him each morning.   
   
Remus shook his head at the morose turn his thoughts had taken. 

“That’s it. You need to get out of bed, out of this room, and find some company.” He said to himself out loud. 

He braced himself for the variety of aches and pains that normally resulted from getting out of bed—or just moving in general, and pulled himself to a sitting position, before rising from the bed.   
He just stood there for a long moment afterwards; the expected aches and pains had never come. In fact…he would venture to say he felt pretty good. In fact…he might even tentatively admit to feeling downright wonderful.   
He lifted his arms over his head and stretched, and felt himself smiling when there was no pain even then. 

“Maybe I should have started drinking myself to sleep a long time ago…”

He laughed at the absurd thought, though he had to admit he felt good enough, that maybe it wasn’t actually so absurd. He began whistling a merry tune as he sauntered into the bathroom to take a shower. He felt so good, he might even wear some of those new clothes Sirius had gotten him; he’d avoided them thus far because he didn’t want to impose more than he already had on the man’s charity. Sirius, stubborn beast that he was, had gone out and gotten them anyway.   
   
Remus had long ago made it habit to not look at himself—even when washing or dressing. It had always been too depressing, to see the scars piling up, the wounds that wouldn’t quite close, except after a long time healing, due to the dark magic taint in his wolf form’s saliva. As he’d gotten older, and the scars had started piling up on his face, and there had started to be more grey than brown in his hair, he’d even stopped looking at his face. 

While taking his shower, he did notice that his skin seemed softer, less rough. He put it down to the fancy soap he was using. Sirius had bought it, and gotten rather offended when Remus had laughed at his delicate ways. He himself had always made do with simple, unscented soap. It did the job, didn’t cost much. He’d never felt any pressing need to buy fancy soap that was scented and moisturized and softened your skin. 

His hair felt softer too. Again, he put it down to the fancy shampoo Sirius had stocked his bathroom with—lightly scented, made your hair silky, more manageable, reduced split ends and breakage. He’d always just used his plain soap—he’d never seen the need to buy different soap for his hair; money was hard enough to come by, it would have been an pointless and unnecessary expense.   
   
Once clean, groomed and dressed, Remus straightened his shoulders and ventured out, still marveling at how very, very good he felt. He felt like a new man.   
He started down the stairs, and could dimly hear the sound of voices drifting out of the parlor. Funny…it sounded like a woman. 

_“Sirius, you old dog. You’ve been holding out on me.”_  
   
As he neared the parlor, he could clearly see everyone seated within. Sirius was seated on the couch, with Harry beside him, and a dark haired woman he didn’t know was seated across from them on one of the chairs. 

Just from that brief glance he could see trouble brewing. Harry was all but wedged into Sirius’ side, and he was staring at the woman with a blank face—not actively hostile, but certainly not welcoming. Sirius glanced at the boy every so often, looked vaguely bewildered, and then rallied to try to keep his conversation with the woman going. The woman kept glancing at Harry from time to time as well, smiling at him tentatively, and looking uneasy when he just kept staring at her with that blank, unwelcoming face.

_“Well, if nothing else, maybe if I join in I can keep the situation from devolving. Oh, Sirius, your timing couldn’t be worse. Of course the boy is going to feel threatened. We all know he wasn’t happy with his muggles, even if he doesn’t say much about his time there. Naturally he’s not going to be happy about things here changing.”_

He cleared his throat upon reaching the doorway to announce his presence, and then faltered when they all turned to look at him. The woman just looked politely curious. Harry and Sirius looked at him, their jaws literally dropped, and their eyes bugged out. It would have been comical if it wasn’t so disconcerting.

“Damn, Moony! What the hell did you do to yourself?”

Remus got a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He should have known Sirius wouldn’t give him new clothes without pranking them in some way…

“Remus! You look fabulous!” Harry added right after, his face slack with shock. 

_“So…not pranked? What are they talking about then?”_  
   
“Seriously, what did you do?” Sirius demanded. He even rose from his seat and came to walk around Remus so he could examine him all angles. “If I hadn’t of known you practically my whole life, I wouldn’t have even recognized you!” 

“I didn’t do anything, I just got some sleep.” Remus protested, smacking Sirius’ hands when he grabbed some of his hair to examine. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” He continued, turning towards the woman, who was watching their interactions with bemusement. He glanced over when Sirius stiffened and glared at him, bewildered. 

“This is Adeline Gardiner. She holds the Rosier seat in the Wizengamot.” Harry answered, voice flat.

“Oh, right. I believe Sirius mentioned you…a time or three.” 

“Pleased to meet you…?”

“Oh, my apologies. Remus Lupin, at your service.”

“Very nice to meet you Remus.” Adeline replied with a smile. Sirius looked at Remus, looked at Adeline, saw them smiling at one another, and began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

_“Stop being stupid, man. He’s a werewolf, it will never happen.”_

He had to admit that, while part of him felt like a heel for even thinking that, there was a part of him—the part that cringed every time he looked into the mirror and saw what a decade in Azkaban had done to his once-handsome face—that was quite relieved by the thought nonetheless. What the hell did Remus think he was doing, coming down here looking decades younger, scar free, brown-haired and looking dapper in clothes he’d bought him? And he did it just in time to swoop in, and be all charming and debonair for Adeline’s benefit. Bastard.  
   
What could have become a very awkward moment was saved when Winky popped in to announce that lunch was ready. 

“Wonderful, Winky, we’ll be right along. Allow me to escort you, madame?” Sirius added, giving his most charming smile to Adeline and moving to step between her and Remus. 

“You’re too kind.” Adeline replied, her voice dry and amused, as she took the arm extended towards her. 

“Don’t forget dashing, debonair…”

“Egotistical, full of himself…”

“You wound me, madame! I’ll have you know I am the very heart and soul of courtesy and humility!”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Adeline teased back. “I’ve yet to see any evidence of it.”

“Spoken like a lawyer, always looking for proof. You should just take my word for it, I’m a helluva guy, really.” 

“I am a lawyer, remember? I’m afraid I demand proof. Sorry.” 

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to give me a chance to prove it.”

Their eyes met, and something seemed to pass between the two of them. 

“I guess I will.” Adeline agreed quietly, before lightening her voice to its earlier, teasing tone. “I should warn you that I demand rather vigorous proof. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Whatever Sirius answer was, it was lost as they entered the dining room across the way. 

Remus smiled to himself, happy for his friend. He’d never seen him like that. In school, he’d always been popular with the girls, but never really had time for any of them. He went through girlfriends the way other people went through socks. Whatever it was he’d been looking for, he’d never found it in any of them—though apparently this girl had whatever it was in spades. 

He glanced down, and realized Harry was still standing beside him. His arms were crossed, and he was glowering at the doorway to the dining room rather fiercely.

“We should get going as well, don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

Harry grunted and stalked across towards the dining room looking like he was preparing to go to war. Remus sighed and followed him.   
   
 

Harry excused himself early from lunch, after barely touching his food. Remus sighed again as he watched him go, Sirius was still bewildered, and Adeline fidgeted uncomfortably.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Don’t be silly. Maybe he’s getting sick or something? I should probably take him to St. Mungo’s for a checkup.”

“He’ll get over it, I think he’s just feeling threatened right now.” Remus spoke up.

“Threatened? Who’s threatening him?”

“I think that would be me.” Adeline sighed.

“What are you talking about, you haven’t done anything.”

“We know he wasn’t happy with the muggles. That much is obvious, even if we can’t get him to say much about his time there. He’s just gotten comfortable here, and he doesn’t like the possibility of that changing at some point in the future.” 

“He was living with muggles before? Was he abused?”

“What kind of question is that?” Sirius demanded.

“A pertinent one.”

“You’re a halfblood! Your grandfather was a muggle!”

“Yes, and?”

“So? I didn’t expect to hear rabid anti-muggle prejudice out of your mouth.”

Adeline rolled her eyes and sighed. “One thing I really hate is how black and white people seem to make things sometimes. I swear, our society is so twisted up by the last war, one isn’t allowed to have a balanced view of muggles. Unless you’re singing muggle praises night and day, you’re immediately accused of being a murderous pureblood maniac! It’s positively infuriating. Yes, I have a muggle grandfather. I also attended muggle university and law school. I know quite a few muggles, I’ve lived among them, worked with them, gone to school with them. I am in no way, shape or form a murderous anti-muggle thug. The fact is, muggles are just people without magic. Something that muggles and wizards have in common is that you find all kinds. There are nice ones, there are evil ones, there are lots who are somewhere in between. The fact is, for every mixed family one finds where the muggle parent, grandparent or what have you is supportive and accepting, you’ll find one where relations are strained, if still congenial, and others where things are strained and _hostile._ It’s usually motivated by one of two things—fear, or in some cases, religious sentiment. The Christian Bible says ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” The witch burnings were a direct result of directives like that. It’s popular these days to downplay the whole thing as having been exaggerated, or overstated. It wasn’t. Witches and wizards did die, however only if caught unawares. Anyone with enough warning managed to escape. There are estimates that a few million muggles died in those fires, because the muggles were quite diligent about trying to eradicate witchcraft from the earth. I’ll bet you anything, if you were to do an informal poll, you’d discover that it’s overwhelmingly wizards who hold strong pro-muggle sentiments. Witches tend not to, because we all know it was specifically witches the muggles wanted to burn alive!”   
   
She took a deep breath and shook her head as though banishing her thoughts. 

“I’m getting way off the subject here. My point was that it is a plain and simple fact that a wizarding child with muggle guardians is often at risk for abuse. It varies, from strained relations once the child goes off to school, and slowly loses touch with their muggle families. For some, it’s outright abuse, and it starts when they’re very young, once strange things start happening. The parents, frightened by the events, often decide their child is possessed, or is just evil, and they lash out in fright towards the child. At that point one of two things happens—either the child, frightened and upset, starts lashing back with magic, which escalates the tension, and starts a vicious cycle, or the child is beaten down enough that they’re too frightened to even attempt to defend themselves. That also can lead to escalation in the right circumstances, as the parents may decide they’ve gone the correct route in controlling the evil thing that’s taken over their child, which leads to more abuse. It’s a real problem. The trouble is, you can’t say that in today’s political climate. It’s tantamount to declaring yourself a psychopath with a yen to commit murder. It’s sickening, really. Pretending that all muggles are wonderful, that all muggleborn children are safe, happy and content, and all mixed families are without strife or conflict is foolish in the extreme. Saying it’s so doesn’t actually make it so.”

 “I thought you got along with your muggles?”

“I do, for the most part. That doesn’t mean everything was always sunshine and roses though. My grandparents had a very strained relationship, you know. My grandmother loved her husband, but once they were married she discovered she was pretty much trapped in the muggle world. Her relatives weren’t happy about her marrying a muggle, the Selwyn family had a terrible grudge against her for choosing a muggle over their son. If all that wasn’t enough, my grandfather couldn’t have gone to most wizarding places anyway, because he either would have been driven off by muggle-repelling wards, or wouldn’t be able to see the place. When my father started school, my grandfather felt a bit left out when my grandmother and he would talk about Hogwarts. When other fathers were going to their sons’ football games and such, my grandfather couldn’t go see his son play quidditch. He was left completely out of his son’s life once he started school. My father had no interest in marrying a muggle himself, he went looking for a witch. Her family wasn’t too happy she was marrying a half-blood. My grandfather attended their wedding, but he felt very awkward and out of place, and my grandmother did as well, because she had been living as a muggle for all those years, and lost touch with most of her friends and family in the wizarding world. They were happy enough together, I suppose. I think they both must have wondered though, how different their lives would have been if they’d stuck with their own kind. I’ve always been close to my grandfather, though I think it was mostly due to my muggle schooling. All the things he missed out on with my father, he made up for with me, I think. He was very involved in my schooling, bragged about me endlessly to his friends, and was right there in the audience beaming and taking pictures when I graduated from university. If I hadn’t of gone to muggle university, he’d have been left out of most of my life like he was left out of my father’s life. He was never abusive, but you can see it was still not an ideal situation. Now, knowing all that, I’ll ask again. Was Harry abused by his muggles?”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look. 

“We think so, but how long and to what degree we don’t know.” 

“Did you ask?”

“We didn’t directly ask if he was abused, no. We asked about his life there more generally. He never has much to say about his time there, and what little he does say never sounds particularly good. It’s little things mostly.” 

“So, you suspect he was abused by his muggles, and yet you jumped down my throat for asking if he was?”

“Well, it’s not…it’s just”

“Exactly, it’s not the ‘done thing’. It’s like no one can find a happy middle ground, they either hate muggles with a passion, or sing their praises and get all weird when someone dares suggest that, in the end, they’re just people like us, except for magic—mostly the same, sometimes better, sometimes worse. I find it terribly frustrating, especially as a half-blood! I’ve had more people than I can count jump down my throat or get indignant with me because I’m not rabidly pro-muggle. As much as I adore my grandfather, I can admit that his and my grandmother’s situation was less than ideal for a variety of reasons. They dealt with it, but it’s something people have to be willing to acknowledge! There are real problems with mixed families—which isn’t to say things are perfect in all-muggle or all-wizard families without fail, far from it. It’s more that there are particular kinds of problems that result, and pretending otherwise does no one any favors, especially as the particular problems that result can and often do end up leading to child abuse…spousal abuse in some cases.”

“That’s sick, using your magic to abuse your muggle spouse.” 

“Who said it was always the muggles that were being abused? I know of at least three witches who spent most of their lives trapped with violent muggle men who beat them terribly.”

“What witch would ever put up with that?”

“Think about the climate we live in. A witch married to a muggle cannot defend herself with magic. Even if it’s to defend her life! Our current ministry is so pro-muggle that a witch or wizard using magic against a muggle, even in self-defense, is almost always ruled as wrongdoing on the witch or wizard’s part. That means that witches married to muggle men who turn out to be abusive are in a rather delicate situation. They could defend themselves…and go to Azkaban. They could leave their muggle spouse, but then where would they go? They’d have to go back to family and friends who often have shunned them for marrying the muggle in the first place, and who may not be willing to take them back. The only other choice they really have is to take the beating, brew some potions to hide or heal the evidence, keep their heads down. Some witches who married muggles lost everything in doing so, that trying to get out of the situation…they already paid such a high price, the only thing they really have left is stubborn pride. There’s also the fact that, while divorce may have become common among muggles, it’s decidedly looked down upon by witches and wizards. Chances are, many a witch who did try to leave would find herself shunned anew for doing so, even if her husband is an abusive muggle.”

“That’s…crazy. No, I don’t believe that at all. Who would toss a witch in Azkaban for defending herself against a violent muggle?”

“Our Ministry. There are two that I know of. The third abused witch I know of died fairly young, while her son was still in Hogwarts. I don’t know if her husband killed her or not, though I’ve been told it’s certainly a possibility.” 

“What?! Who?”

“Eileen Prince…her married name was Snape. I believe you went to school with her son.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged an uncomfortable look. 

“How do you even know all this?”

“Family law is my area of interest. I’ve made it a point to familiarize myself with the laws, and recent cases, in our world as well as the muggle side, especially as I’m now seated on the Wizengamot. Eileen Prince I know about primarily through Lucius and Narcissa, as her death never was investigated on our end, and Tobias Snape was killed by death eaters not long after, so it was never investigated on the muggle end either, as the cover-up of the death of Tobias made Eileen’s death disappear from muggle records as well.” 

“That’s…”

“Yes, it is.” 

 

   
Remus could see Sirius was falling into one of the black moods he seemed prone to, post Azkaban; he always been a bit moody, but his time with the dementors had made it much worse.

“We’ve gotten rather off the subject. We were talking about Harry.” Remus prompted, hoping to draw his friend out of his mood before he settled into it too far.

He could see Sirius make the effort to throw it off and refocus. “Right, Harry. He’s what’s important. So…what do I do?”

“You’ve got me. I’m a lawyer, not a child psychologist.”

“I’m an only child and I have no children of my own. I haven’t a clue either.”

“Thanks, really, that’s a great help.” 

“I suppose all you really can do is reassure him that he’s important to you, and that it won’t change, even if the circumstances of your life do. You should probably try to draw him out on the subject of his muggles as well. Chances are it was just a strained household, not an outright abusive one, but you should still try to get him to talk about it. That would probably go a long way towards reassuring him as well. You should keep that in mind. Even if he’s resistant or seems to strongly object to talking about it, you should still stick with it. He probably needs to know that you care enough to push the issue.” 

“You should probably make a point to be around regularly.” Remus added to Adeline. He managed to keep his mischievous smile hidden with some effort.

“Oh?” Adeline replied, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

“You’re the first new person that’s been introduced since he’s come here to live permanently. I think he probably needs to see that new people can be added to the mix without it changing anything.” 

“That’s a really good idea. Are you busy Wednesday?” Sirius agreed with a smile.

“Wednesday is bad for me. I might be available Friday.”

“Actually, Friday is perfect. Barty and Dora are due back from their vacation on Friday. We should have a little celebration for them.” 

“A celebration?”

“They should be coming back engaged.”

“How nice. They’re a cute couple.” 

“That’s a wonderful idea. Who all should we invite?”

“Well, Andi and Ted—parents of the bride to be. I guess Lucy and Cissy too…grandpa and grandmother will want to be involved, so will Aunt Dru and the rest… I guess some of Nymie’s school friends, and her auror buddies…I’ll let Andi handle that part. In fact, I’ll let Lucy worry about rounding up Barty’s school friends. They were both Slytherins, he’d probably know who to invite better than I would.”

“Making him work for his invite?”

“Of course!” 

“You have anyone else to add?”

“My mother will probably want to come. She was friends with Barty’s mother.”

“The only other people I really socialize with are Arthur and Molly.” Remus shrugged.

“I’m not too keen to invite them after the last time I saw them. You just know they’d bring the whole brood, all fifteen million of them. They’d probably burn down the house! If that wasn’t enough, the littlest one seems to have designs on Harry, and he seems a bit freaked out by her. Well, she is sorta creepy…just keeps staring, with her face all red…”

“Oh, Sirius really!”

“That’s terrible! The poor little girl.” Adeline laughed. “But what do you mean they’d burn down the house?”

“Oh? Didn’t I tell you about the taco incident?”

“I’ve already heard this one. If you’ll both excuse me…” Remus left the table, while Sirius animatedly retold the story of the Weasleys’ assault on Taco Bell.  
 

 

“Oh, Harry. There you are. It’s a beautiful day out. I’m surprised to find you hidden away with your books like this. Doing summer homework?”

“Nah, I finished all that while I was at the Dursleys.” 

“What are you doing then?” Remus wondered, as he began perusing some of the titles of the books piled all around the boy.

“Cursed items, Dark curses explained, What’s your enchantment: a step by step guide, The Curse Breaker’s Bible... What on earth?” 

A quick glance at the rest of the piles showed more of the same. 

“What are you trying to do, exactly?”

“Trying to figure out a curse I found.”

“A curse? Where is the item? Curses aren’t something to mess with, you should let me look at it.”

“As best I’ve been able to figure it isn’t a curse that strikes you for handling it, it seems to be just anchored there. I’m trying to figure out how to break it.”

“You should still let me take a look.”

“I will if you’ll make me a deal. You’ll explain what you’re doing and what you find and how to break the curse if you know how. You also won’t try to take the item in question. Hogwarts gave it to me, that makes it mine.” 

“What do you mean Hogwarts gave it to you?”

“It kept showing up where I was. I ignored it for months, and then finally took a look at it when it kept popping up. I was really surprised when I realized what it was. But yeah, Hogwarts gave it to me.” 

“What is the item?”

“Promise first.”  
“Fine, I promise.”  
“Promise what?”  
“Harry…”  
Harry just looked back stubbornly.

“Fine. I promise I’ll explain what all I’m doing with regards to investigating and undoing the curse in question, and I won’t try taking the item in question from your possession.”

Harry nodded, satisfied, and pulled something out of the pouch on his belt, which he handed over rather carelessly, before going back to what he was reading.

“Harry…this is Ravenclaw’s diadem.”  
“Yeah, I know. She’s wearing it on her frog card.”  
“Harry you can’t keep…” he trailed off when Harry just looked at him.

“Hogwarts gave it to you, you say? I don’t understand…you’re the heir of Slytherin, not Ravenclaw.”  
“How do you know that?”  
“Know what?”  
“That I’m the heir of Slytherin. I know, but I sure as hell didn’t tell anybody.”  
“You know? How do you know, your records were sealed. The only reason I know is because Sirius told me after they were opened.”  
“What records?”  
“Your records at the Ministry.”  
“I have records at the Ministry?”  
“Birth certificate, inheritance records, your school transcript will end up there as well, along with your OWL and NEWT certification. Basic information like that.”  
“And it says in these records that I’m heir of Slytherin?”  
“Yes…. Harry, if you didn’t know about the records, how on earth did you know you were heir of Slytherin?”  
“Chamber of Secrets. Like I said, I kept my mouth shut. I had a feeling it would just go badly for me.”   
“The Chamber of…but..but…the place is a myth! People have searched for it for a thousand years!”  
“Hogwarts led me there. I think she wanted to make sure there was no more mishaps. I fixed the hole and left. I don’t know if the basilisk is still alive, I didn’t check. I figured there was no point trying to wake him up when there was no need for his services. He’d probably be hungry…yeah, it just seemed like a bad idea to even try.”   
“No need for his services!”  
“To drive off a muggle army.”  
“Muggle army? You mean murder the muggleborn.”  
“No, I mean drive off a muggle army.” Harry scoffed. He took one look at Remus horrified, confused, disbelieving face and rolled his eyes. “Geez. Hold on.” 

He rose from his seat and went to one of the shelves to retrieve a thick book. “Here. The introduction and first couple of chapters is what you want.”   
“Hogwarts: A History? I’ve read this.”  
“Was it a 1970s edition?”  
“I believe it was a 1940s edition actually.”  
“Well then it’s still pertinent. There seem to be big changes between just the first edition, which you’re holding in your hand, and the later editions. If your 1940s copy was anything like my mum’s 1970s copy, or my 1990s copy, you’ll find it a rather eye-opening experience.”   
“This is really a first edition? I didn’t think there were any of these left. The second edition was a self-updating version with new events in Hogwarts history added each year, while the first was practically a muggle book—completely unmagical. I read that they had people who’d bought the first edition trade theirs in for the magical second edition. I suppose I’d just assumed they magicked them up and resold them all. I suppose it never occurred to me that a wizard family would have kept the unmagical first edition.”  
“It’s probably good they did, or I wouldn’t know any of the stuff I just told you about. The manuscript is at Hogwarts, but you need an appointment and permission to even get into the room with it. I applied for permission but I was denied. I really wanted to see how different the manuscript is from the first edition, since the later editions are so different from the first.”   
 

Remus, booklover that he was, really wanted nothing more than to get right to reading. It was with a feeling of almost physical pain that he forced himself to set the book aside. 

“I’ll read it later. Let’s focus on this curse for the moment. I want you to promise me that, in the future, if you come across anything cursed, you will tell someone immediately and not try to handle it, or study it, by yourself. At least…not until you have a few more years of magical training under your belt, alright? You were extremely lucky that whatever curse you found didn’t affect you. There are some truly vile cursed items out there. You could have been killed, or had your skin rot off, or…well, any number of things, really.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Hogwarts gave me this though; it wasn’t going to hurt me.”

“Even if the castle is somewhat sentient…it’s not sentient in the way that you or I are. It’s a castle…it might not realize what could hurt you.” Remus chided. 

He pulled a chair, and as he did so, he really took a look around.   
“This is quite the set-up you have.”  
“I like it.”   
“Let’s take a look at this curse, shall we?”  
   
   
Harry and Remus were still bent over the diadem a few hours later when Winky popped in to tell them dinner was being served. 

“Already? We just ate!”

Harry’s stomach took that moment to growl.

Winky put a hand on her hip and waggled her finger at Harry reprovingly. 

“You is eating plenty, you hears? None of this no eating stuff! You is a growing boy and is needing good foods to be growing right. You is eating every bit, you hear, or Winky is knowing the reason why!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Harry replied with some amusement. 

Winky nodded and then popped away.

“I can’t believe we’ve been at this so long. Normally I’d have gotten stiff sitting in one place. Well, I can hardly complain that I didn’t, I suppose.” Remus laughed. 

He stood, drew a handkerchief out of his pocket, enlarged it, and carefully wrapped the diadem in it, then did a spell to stick the ends shut.

“I don’t want you handling that with your bare hands anymore, and I really don’t think anyone else should either. I can barely make heads or tails out of most of the readings I’m getting from it. There is definitely at least one curse on the thing…as for the rest, at this point I really just don’t know what I’m looking at. I think the rest of the things are separate enchantments, but even that I’m not ready to say definitively. Without knowing what all is on it, it really isn’t safe to just be handling willy-nilly. There are such things as delayed enchantments, you know. If you feel anything strange, or notice any odd pains, spots or discomfort, be sure to tell someone right away. Who knows what sort of things are on it, really. It’s been lost for most of a thousand years, or so it was thought…how funny to think that it might have been in Hogwarts all along, and no one found it.”

“It was in a tree in Albania, actually.” Harry answered absently.

“It was? How do you know that?” 

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure…I just know it was. Weird.” 

“I wonder if the diadem told you? It was rumored to have the power to enhance intelligence in some way. How would a diadem know it was in Albania as opposed to some other place though? Maybe it reads minds and can share the information with others? Or perhaps it works like a pensieve, and stores memories? If that were the case, the information about what all was done to it might actually be in there, and we could study it without having to try unraveling all the enchantments? I couldn’t even begin to guess.” 

“Something to think about, I guess.”  
 

 

They arrived at the dining room, and Harry’s cheery demeanor immediately went sour. Adeline was still there. 

“Hey kiddo. Where’ve you been?”

“In my library.”

“You have your own library?” Adeline asked curiously.

Harry slanted a glance at Adeline, and debated whether or not to acknowledge she’d spoken. He finally decided it would be far too rude not to do so, so he answered with a curt ‘yes’.

“His parents packed up their house when they went into hiding, and left a trunk full of stuff with Bathilda Bagshot. It’s a good thing too, the house they were in was nearly destroyed, and according to Madame Bagshot, the ruins were picked over by souvenir seekers.”

“Ghouls.” Remus muttered angrily.

“So, why didn’t you tell me I had a sealed file in the Ministry?” Harry demanded as he seated himself.

Sirius’ eyes widened and he smacked himself in the forehead. “I can’t believe that I forgot! In my defense, a lot happened that day. Elphias Doge had to be arrested and removed from office so we could even unseal the file, and then he disappeared, and then Dumbledore randomly showed up to have a press conference in the atrium while everyone was running around looking for Doge…if that wasn’t enough, you called me later and said _‘hey, if you hear about a fire or Hagrid being dead, don’t worry, I’m fine, but now I’m going to go shower and go to bed because I’m exhausted and smell like burning.’_ With all that, I suppose it’s no wonder I forgot.” 

“Well, alright. I’ll let you off this time.” 

“Gee, thanks. You’re too kind.” Sirius snorted in response. “How do you even know about it?”

“Remus told me.”

“Why were you talking about the sealed file you didn’t know about?”

“Harry was surprised to learn that I knew he was heir of Slytherin, since he hadn’t told anyone.”

Sirius slanted a glance at Harry and raised an eyebrow. “How did you know? I didn’t know!”

“He says he found the chamber of secrets.” Remus replied heavily. 

“The Chamber of Secrets?”

“It’s just a myth.” Adeline protested.

“No, apparently it’s real…or at least, so Harry believes. Speaking of which…what was all that about sealing a hole? And what mishap were you talking about?”

“Holes? Mishaps? I don’t like the sound of that. There was supposed to be a weapon in there that would kill all the muggleborn!” 

“Oddment?”  
“Yes, young master?”  
“Can you get me the first edition Hogwarts a history off the table in my library? It should be sitting by itself away from the piles of books on the rest of the table.” 

Oddment disappeared and then reappeared a moment later with the book in hand.

“Thanks, Oddment. Here. Read this and then I’ll answer questions. I want to eat before Winky yells at me again.” 

“Too right you do!” they heard Winky’s squeaky voice echo from elsewhere in the house.

Sirius started snickering, which caused Harry to glare at him reproachfully. 

“Hogwarts a history? I’ve read that. I don’t remember anything about mishaps with the chamber of secrets in there.” Adeline spoke up.

“It’s a first edition. Apparently later editions are heavily excised. I’ve read it too and I can already tell you what I’m reading now wasn’t in mine.” Remus spoke up absently, his nose in the book in question.

“It was excised? What was removed?”

“Well, the introduction says the Hogwarts Sorting Hat was the main source for information on the Founders…and the first chapter is talking about what led the Founders to northern Scotland to build Hogwarts. Apparently they were trying to get away from Merlin, and form an all wizard kingdom, far away from muggles. None of them liked his efforts to unite the wizard and muggle worlds under Arthur. Apparently Morgan Le Fay sending her students to Hogwarts wasn’t just an endorsement for the new school, it was a political statement. She was throwing her weight behind the Founders desire to form a wizard-only nation, and thumbing her nose at Merlin and her brother’s efforts to unite with muggles.”

“What, seriously? I don’t remember any of that.”

“It’s all right here in black and white. It also mentions the chamber of secrets. Slytherin was gathering the parselmouths because they had a basilisk. It was a deterrent to keep Arthur and Merlin’s combined wizard/muggle army from marching on them. It was apparently a real concern, as the small muggle kingdoms were all joining Arthur in droves, and Merlin had a whole cadre of followers—muggleborn, halfblood, and minor purebloods who thought they had a better chance at power with him than with an all wizard kingdom, where the powerful pureblood families that comprised the warlock’s council would have been in charge. Merlin didn’t want a rival wizard kingdom on their flank—the goal was to unite the whole of Britain.”

“What happened then?”

“The parselmouths were massacred.” Harry replied.

“…”

“Slytherin had gathered students and vassals from all the families in which the talent was known to run—apparently there were several, it wasn’t simply a Slytherin trait. The parselmouths who were students were killed while on their way back to Hogwarts after a break, and the families were massacred in their homes, while traveling, while shopping…whole families. It says the massacre actually claimed the lives of over a hundred and fifty people all told, because they didn’t just kill the ones who had the talent, but all their siblings, children, aunts, uncles, cousins. There was some horror and outrage at first, but then stories started circulating that they had gotten the talent from a pact with the devil and were using their ill-gotten powers for evil. People were frightened and confused…and Hogwarts lost its ace in the hole. Without a crew of handlers, they didn’t dare use the basilisk.”

“What about the muggleborn though? I thought that was what caused the problems between the founders…not this stuff with Merlin and Arthur.”  
   
Remus finished reading the last of the chapters that dealt with that period in Hogwarts history and set the book aside.

“Slytherin apparently did argue against muggleborn witches and wizards having a place in Hogwarts…the reason seems to be much different than what is commonly believed these days. He seems to have thought that the muggleborn had more of a stake in Arthur’s kingdom than in theirs, as their families would be there. He thought they should just let Merlin keep them. His argument was that you couldn’t trust anyone who would forsake their kin for strangers, especially as there might one day be a war between their two groups, and it would be their families they’d be fighting against. If they weren’t kin-betrayers, they were likely there as moles or saboteurs. He figured either way, it wasn’t worth the risk to the rest of the student population, especially as there were so few of them. According to this, the argument that resulted in Slytherin leaving wasn’t about the muggleborn, per se—it was about the necessity of negotiating a peace between themselves and Merlin’s forces. Arthur had numbers on his side, as he had muggle troops as well as wizards. They had the children of most of the wizards of the British Isles all gathered in Hogwarts by that point, and there was too much danger of wiping out wizards altogether to risk a battle now that the basilisk was no longer a viable option. Slytherin leaving was actually a sacrifice of sorts, for the sake of peace. They all felt that, so long as Slytherin was there, Merlin would never stop his push to destroy the castle, if necessary, in order to get to him. With all the stories going around about evil parselmouths consorting with the devil, Merlin’s muggle forces were apparently more than willing to do the same, as they truly believed they’d be doing the world a favor by destroying the evil man. So, Slytherin left, the half-bloods, muggleborn, and blood-traitors—the book’s words, not mine—were given a place in Hogwarts, and their dream of a wizard only nation never came to fruition.”

“And today we swear by Merlin’s name, and parselmouths are still seen as murderous dark wizards.” Harry concluded. “So I guess you can see who won the overall conflict.”   
 

“That’s unreal. That’s completely different from what we’re all taught. It’s sort of mentioned in passing in History of Magic that they were all running around at more or less the same time, but they never got into all this stuff.” 

“I know…I can’t believe how heavily edited the later editions are. This might very well be one of very few, if not the only, unedited edition left in all of Britain. I wonder why they kept it though?”

“As a reminder, is my guess.” Harry replied. “The story is one that serves as a warning, because one of my ancestors had married a Peverell, who were another family that carried the talent for parselmouth. They escaped the purge because they didn’t come over to England till William the Conqueror did, which was years after most of this took place. The parselmouth talent she carried in her blood passed down the Potter line. Since it was already considered a very bad thing to be by the time they arrived in this country, it never really got around, because they kept their mouths shut, and their heads down, and didn’t let people know they carried the talent. If any future generations had ever questioned why they had to hide like that, they could just hand them that book and say ‘this is why’. There’s also the fact that it carries the tale of how the talent became branded a dark art worthy of shunning. It was a PR stunt. One day, parselmouths are the heroes prepared to defend the fledging all-wizard kingdom-to-be with the fearsome weapon of last resort…the next, they’re massacred in their beds and everyone agrees it was a job well done. It happened once. Maybe whoever bought that book read through it, and realized the true history could very well change, depending on whoever it suited, so he or she held on to this when the call went out to trade it in for a new, magical edition that could be updated from a distance.”

 “It seems they were right to do so, if it happened like that.” Adeline mused. “All the magical editions would change in unison when changes were made to the master copy.”  
“So when the book started being edited, every copy was—except for this one, as it was a non-magical copy. Those later editions were probably passed down, and the one passing it down probably didn’t re-read the whole thing, they just checked the end to see if there was anything new.” Sirius continued. “Which means that they handed it off to kids or grandkids to read, and never realized it was all different. Whoever was reading it for the first time assumed it had always been that way, and didn’t question the history as presented.” 

“Within a few generations, you wouldn’t have anyone left who’d ever read the original, because really, how often was the conflict between Merlin and the Founders going to come up in conversation in the time between people reading the first edition, and everyone reading the excised magical editions? Probably not too often.” Remus concluded.

“And as a result of this hack-job, Salazar Slytherin has become a bloodthirsty madman who was so desperate to murder muggleborns he had to be driven from the castle, but still managed to leave a weapon for his heir, who would also naturally be a bloodthirsty muggleborn-hating freak as well, to make sure they were all killed dead. On top of that, the deal with the parselmouths never got cleared up, so everyone who just happens to be able to talk to snakes has to keep their mouth shut for fear they’re going to have a mob of frightened idiots trying to kill them since they’re obviously an icky dark wizard.” Harry agreed. 

“Alright, that answers some questions…now what’s this about holes and mishaps?”

“Oh, that.”  
“Yes, that. Spill it, kiddo.”

In somewhat vague terms, Harry told them about finding the chamber, his explorations, finding and fixing the hole that had been cut into an exposed pipe, and what he’d surmised from it. 

“So, with that thought in mind, I went to the library to see if there were any public records about deaths or arrests to see if I could find out anything more about it. There’s actually a searchable archive. Just out of curiosity, I did a search on the chamber of secrets, to see if it came up in any records. It did. Hagrid was arrested for opening the chamber of secrets, petrifying a bunch of students and killing one—a fourth year Ravenclaw named Myrtle Greene—though the creature on record as having done it is an acromantula, not a basilisk. He was expelled from Hogwarts, his wand was snapped, and he went to Azkaban for eight years. So, Hagrid was actually on public record as heir of Slytherin.”

“What?”

“Yep. What I think happened is that the petrifications were Hagrid, and the death was Tom Riddle, the actual heir of Slytherin. I think the death of Myrtle was the first time the basilisk came up out of the chamber.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because the acromantula was still in the castle until Tom Riddle went to kill it. Spiders flee before the basilisk. If a near-thousand year old one had been roaming around the castle, that spider would have been long gone. The thing I can’t figure is how it was getting around unseen. According to the police report the thing knocked down Hagrid, tore up the hallway as it fled, and knocked the front doors clean off their hinges. The only thing I can figure is that there was a second, smaller acromantula, or someone was milking the venom and petrifying people directly. Who or why, I couldn’t say. All I can guess, if my scenario of what happened is correct, is that it was someone with a grudge against Riddle. Think about it, he was the heir of Slytherin, he found the chamber of secrets…and he couldn’t tell anyone without risking a lifetime in Azkaban. He couldn’t argue that it was an accident; the other attacks made it look like he was just so hell bent on killing someone that he just kept trying and trying until someone finally met the basilisk’s eyes directly. He knew full well Dumbledore wouldn’t help him, or argue for clemency—he’d already nearly killed him once. Hagrid, however, was his ward. He probably figured he’d be alright. He did tell the authorities that he believed Myrtle’s death to be an accident, due to Hagrid’s pet getting loose, and tried explaining that he really didn’t understand how dangerous his pets were to most people, as he was ten foot tall and weighed a literal ton.”   
   
Harry glanced up and realized Adeline was staring at him with her eyes slightly bugged out.

“Did you say Albus Dumbledore tried to kill a boy? One of his students? That’s a very serious allegation. You shouldn’t just go around saying things like that.” 

“It’s true though. Tom Riddle ran afoul of the same cursed mirror my friend Neville did just this past year. He and Dumbledore were the only people in the castle over the holiday break. He sat in front of the thing the whole time, entranced by whatever he saw, and nearly starved to death. Dumbledore didn’t look for him, or inquire among the house elves where he was or if he was alright. He didn’t even apparently notice he was missing until the rest of the students came back and his housemates inquired as to where he was. Me, Ron and Hermione were listening at the door after we dropped Neville off at the hospital wing. When we told Madame Pomfrey what was wrong with him, she was furious. She called Dumbledore down and ripped him a new one, because the mirror was supposed to have been destroyed 50 years prior because it had almost killed a student, but instead of being destroyed, it was left out for more orphans to stumble across. Had we not been with him, Neville probably would have just sat there entranced as well. It showed him his parents, sane and whole and looking right at him. We had to drag him away kicking and screaming and crying to go back, and pry his hands off the doorjamb so we could get him out of the room. He was real depressed for a long time afterwards too. “ 

Adeline sat back, stunned, and wondered how the man had kept his job, let alone become headmaster.   
   
Harry yawned suddenly and blinked sleepy eyes at everyone.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already? It’s still early.”

“It’s nine o’ clock. We’ve been talking for a while. I went to bed later than I’m used to yesterday, but I still got up the same time I always do.”

“What time do you normally get up?” Adeline asked curiously.

“Just before sunrise.”

“Really? Why so early?”

“It’s the only time I have free to exercise during the school year. I’m in classes all day and then in the evening I can’t actually leave and do my own thing because Hermione starts having fits and accusing me of being secretive and evil. It’s so bizarre…you’d think people would look at her funny for being such a weirdo, but no…everyone looks at me like I just slaughtered babies and feasted on their bloody flesh. It’s so unfair.”

“Uh…”

Harry yawned again and hopped down from his chair.

“Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight, Harry.”  
“Sleep well.”

Harry gave a lazy wave over his shoulder and padded out of the room.  
 

 

“He’s a very unusual child.”

“In what way?”

“He’s willingly going to bed, and gets up on his own before sunrise to exercise. You don’t find that unusual?”

“He’s dedicated, I’ll give him that.”

“I figure he was motivated to get stronger because that cousin of his and his friends kept beating him up.”

“I still can’t believe he took on the whole gang single-handedly and sent them away crying. He’s so tiny, he looks like a strong wind would blow him over.”

“He’s not that tiny…have you seen the muscles on that kid? He’s so skinny you don’t expect it, but that kid is solid muscle.”

“I’ll admit he was rather impressive against that training dummy.”

“You know, I’d love a chance to look into the records of that boy…what did he say his name was? Tom Riddle?” Adeline said suddenly.

“Well, that came out of nowhere.”

“Sorry, just thinking out loud. Do you think he’s right about poor Myrtle being killed by a basilisk?”

“Poor Myrtle? You make it sound like you knew her.”

“I’ve met her. Being male, you probably wouldn’t have.”

“The girl died fifty years ago.”

“She left a ghost, at least I’m certain it must be her—the name is right, she’s about the right age, and she’s even wearing a school uniform. Moaning Myrtle they call her. She haunts one of the girls’ bathrooms at Hogwarts. The only people who ever use her bathroom are first year girls, and they quickly learn not to. She likes to hang out in the u-bend to cry and brood on how miserable she is. She sometimes pops her head out unexpectedly when she hears people in the bathroom. It’s a very unpleasant experience, to say the least.” 

Sirius snickered, and then he and Remus both started laughing.

“Yes, it’s all very funny when it’s not you! It’s rather traumatizing to have an ice cold head pop out of your lap while you’re trying to pee!”

Sirius and Remus just laughed harder.   
Adeline huffed and crossed her arms, and settled in to wait them out.  
   
The two men eventually calmed down.

“Yes, I can see how that would be rather upsetting. Moaning Myrtle, huh? That name does sound vaguely familiar. I must have heard one of the girls mention her while I was in school. That doesn’t make any sense though, for Harry’s scenario at least; if the girl left a ghost, it should be known who killed her.”

“Unless no one asked.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t. You have to understand, Myrtle is one of those people who, knowing she probably got teased a lot, and one should probably feel sorry for her…she’s so unpleasant that one finds it very difficult to do so. You can’t say anything to her without her taking offense, shrieking and crying and flooding the bathroom. Unlike most people, she never has, and never will, outgrow that particularly irritating phase of teen life. Still…however irritating she might be, she surely didn’t deserve to be murdered in a bathroom and then be stuck there for eternity.”

“I have a bit of info on some Riddles…they were all muggles though, even though one of them was named Tom. The Potters inherited their stuff when they all died…which was also about 50 years ago or so.”

“The Potters inherited from muggles?”

“Yeah. Grandfather looked into it, and it turns out they must have been squib descendants or something. They owned a big swath of land in northern England—forest, a couple of mountains, a few rolling fields, manor house, the whole nine yards. There was another family, a wizard family, the Gaunts. They owned a small plot of land in the middle of the Riddle’s property. There was a father and his two children—a son and daughter. In the Riddle family it was two parents and a son. The Gaunts, the two males at least, were regularly attacking the Riddles, mostly the son, who was coincidentally the same age as the Gaunt’s daughter. The father and son went to prison for having attacked the muggles with magic, and then attacking the daughter while the auror was there to talk to them, because the muggle boy and his fiancée went riding by. The girl apparently fancied him, and her father and brother were outraged that she was mooning after a muggle. The father died in prison, the son got out after several years, was home a few days and then went back to prison for killing the Riddle family. He confessed to it.”

“So we have a young man and woman, feuding families…and then all of a sudden the main obstacles are removed in one fell swoop—and we have a teenage boy years later with the name Riddle, who also happens to be a wizard. I think it’s pretty obvious what happened after dad and brother went to prison.”

“What I’d like to know is what happened after that. According to grandpa, Tom Riddle grew up in an orphanage in London; and yet the guy who was probably his father was alive until the mid-forties, still living with his parents, until he was killed by the uncle.”

“Well, just because the girl ended up pregnant, doesn’t automatically mean the boy did right by her. He probably had his way with her, and then had her quietly removed from the area when she turned up pregnant.”

“That’s vile.”

“It’s quite common—especially among rich families who employ a lot of maids. It’s practically part of the job description: cook, clean, get molested by the men of the house…get turned out by the lady of the house in disgrace when they turn up pregnant. It’s practically a cliché of country manor life.” Adeline sighed. “The girl was probably dropped off in London, pregnant, given a bit of money—not enough to live on, but enough to appease the son’s family’s conscience. If she was unable to find work or lodgings, and her money ran out, she was probably in poor health by the time the baby was ready to be born. She could very well have died giving birth to him, probably right there at the orphanage. Dad, meanwhile, continued on with his life and never gave a second thought to the girl or her child. In fact…I wonder if the boy showed up there when the uncle got out of prison. It would have been in the papers, most likely. If the boy knew he was a relative, he might have gone looking for him. London in the forties wasn’t a pleasant place to be—the city suffered terrible damage during the war. The uncle would have gone home, found the place empty. I’m sure he wondered where his sister was, and his father died in prison, correct? Picture it—the boy shows up, tells the uncle his name…if he asked where his mother was, he tells him she died in the orphanage. Uncle goes to extract vengeance from the Riddles for what happened to her. While I don’t know that’s what happened, it is a very likely scenario. An orphan boy in London in the forties probably would have jumped at the chance to get out of the city, and away from the bombs, even if all that was waiting on the other end was an uncle who had just gotten out of prison. It probably still seemed preferable to life in the city.” 

“The whole heir of Slytherin thing came with the Riddle estate.”

“That’s interesting, isn’t it? He finds the chamber of secrets, but there’s a series of attacks leading up to him releasing the basilisk, a girl dies. He can’t tell anyone what he found for fear he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison, so he pins the death on Hagrid, who may or may not have been indirectly responsible for the others. He has a new way to claim heir of Slytherin, and this time there are three bodies. If the uncle’s attack was prompted by his appearance, he doesn’t dare try to lay claim to anything that time either, for fear he’ll be arrested as an accessory, or that he’ll be retroactively pinned with the death of Myrtle. He wouldn’t dare try claiming anything even on the muggle side either. Like I said, it’s practically a cliché. Even if he were the spitting image of his father, that doesn’t mean he would actually be entitled to inherit anything. He might actually be one child of several. Hell, his grandfather could have had a dozen children as well—but only his son by his wife was entitled to anything. Either that boy was going around committing murder left and right—by accident or design—or he had the worst luck I’ve ever heard of.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise at moonrise, a playdate, a party, and a ministry raid.

   
   
That night was the full moon. An hour before moonrise, Sirius and Remus prepared to go to the Forbidden Forest. 

“No leaving the house, no wild parties…not till you’re older, and I have to be invited.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. Oddment and Winky are both here, and I’ve got stuff to keep me occupied.” Harry assured them.

Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair, Remus gave him a wan smile, and the two men turned to leave. 

Harry busied himself in the potions lab for a bit, till he was sure they were really gone for the night, and not likely to return for some reason. Once he was certain, he made his way to the library—Sirius’ library, that is. 

He had combed through his own library looking for ideas on what the locket Kreacher had given him was. It had been six months and he hadn’t even really looked at the thing before then. In his own defense, he hadn’t really had a chance, what with school and all, but it had begun to weigh on him nonetheless. With that thought in mind, he had spent some time going through his library looking for ways to detect enchantments so he could make a start in puzzling out what the locket was; hopefully knowing what it was would give him some clue how to destroy it, though he was hoping he could find a way to simply remove the enchantments without having to destroy the locket as well. 

He hadn’t had much luck so far. Oh, he’d found plenty of detection spells to see if an item was enchanted—it was. The problem was, none of what he’d read through so far had really given him any idea of what those enchantments were. He could only assume that, whatever the thing was, it wasn’t something he was likely to find in his own library, which was primarily light and neutral magic. The locket had belonged to a dark lord, so he could only assume it was made with dark magic—something his library was definitely lacking in. He was going to have to see about rectifying that oversight in the future. In the meantime, he was hoping Sirius’ family library might hold an answer. The Blacks were well known as a family drawn to the darker side of magic—whatever that actually meant. 

People tended to be rather vague about the whole subject. If it came up at all, people would flinch or pale, or their eyes would bug out, or they’d squeak like they’d just been frightened. When he’d tried to get people to clarify what, exactly, dark magic was, he’d gotten very frustrating answers. Most people would say something vague like ‘everyone knows that—unforgivables!’ He highly doubted that was the case. There had to be more to an entire branch of magic than three spells. Others had told him it was magic forbidden by the Ministry. They still hadn’t really answered his question—what was it, exactly, and what made it different from what they taught at Hogwarts?

He’d avoided Sirius’ library thus far—he was pretty certain both Remus and Sirius would be stupid about him wanting to look into dark magic. They were as bad as most other wizards he’d met about even talking about the subject or really clarifying it in any way. Maybe it really was just horrible stuff that everyone was better off staying away from, but somehow he didn’t think that was actually the case. He had a feeling that most people really had no idea what it actually was, they’d just been so brainwashed to have an automatic Pavlovian response to even the mention of it, that they just reacted hostilely. The fact that most people couldn’t really give him a straight answer told him that much.  
   
He stepped into the library and looked around. It was a larger collection than his own library, though he recognized why right away. They had many of the same books his own collection had, and a bunch more besides. There was a large astronomy section, something his library didn’t really have much of, beyond a few texts, all of them rather old. He supposed it was no real surprise, considering the Blacks’ love of star names. There was a section that seemed to be more or less wizarding eugenics—diatribes about the detrimental effect of muggle blood on a wizarding line. He had a small section on law in his own library, but the Blacks had a much larger collection, covering a wider array of subcategories. They also had a lot of stuff about customs, etiquette and the like, something else his own library lacked. There was a lot of magizoology, with texts covering all the different parts of the world, and a whole subsection that was primarily concerned with dark creatures. There was a whole section of books on, or written in, runes, lots of stuff in different languages, as well as dictionaries and lexicons in those same languages. He even found a book about parselmouths and magical snakes—something else he didn’t have, which was especially sad as it was his family that carried the talent. He had just fewer magical books in general, covering fewer subjects. He did have a muggle collection—his mother’s doing, no doubt—which was alright, he supposed, but he’d have appreciated a more thorough magical collection to go with it—especially since it was a bunch of girl books. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm was sort of interesting, he supposed, if one had nothing better to do—but it wasn’t really his cup of tea. 

He found a section that looked promising and started his search.   
 

 

   
“Is it just me, or does the moon seem to be taking its time tonight?”

“It’s not just you. I’m not complaining, really, because the transformation is no picnic, but I’ll admit the waiting is just as wearing in its own way.” 

Sirius sighed and sat himself beneath a tree to wait for the first signs. 

“Did you just hear something?”

“No…wait…yeah. It sounds like…”

“Hooves.”

A centaur stepped through a break in the trees and regarded them both solemnly for a long moment, before crossing his arms and leaning his torso back slightly so he could observe the sky.

“Much becomes clear now.” He murmured.

Sirius and Remus both stiffened when a wolf’s howl sounded in the distance. Remus glanced around, somewhat bewildered, and looked down at his arms, wondering why they weren’t furry.

“Human, you should leave this place.”

“I’m here to keep him company.”

“I was not talking to you.”

“Huh?”

“We foresaw some weeks ago that the moon was going to lose one of its children, as it would be stolen away by the sun. Now that it has come to pass, you are no longer safe here on this night, human…nor are you welcome.” 

He cocked his head and they could hear a wolf howl again in the distance, though it sounded much closer than it had the last time.

“It is your choice, of course, but I feel I should point out that if you stay much longer there is a chance the moon will reclaim you.”

Sirius blinked once, then again, and slanted a glance at Remus, who was still staring at his human arms with a blank, confused gaze.

“The full moon has already risen, hasn’t it?”

“Some time ago, yes.”

“That’s a werewolf we heard.”

“Indeed.”

“He was claimed by the sun, huh?”

“So it was written in the stars.”

“He’s not, uh, gonna be ‘reclaimed’ suddenly the minute we’re back around humans, right?”

“Not unless you remain within this forest, human.”

“Gotcha.” 

Another howl sounded, much closer than it had just a moment ago; Sirius was pretty sure it was going to be right on top of them at any moment. He reached out, snagged Remus’ arm and apparated them both back to London. He wasn’t sure, but he could almost swear he’d seen the shadow of a werewolf about to break into the clearing just as they’d vanished from sight.

 

They reappeared with a crack on the street outside Grimmauld Place. There was no leafy canopy here hiding the moon from sight; it shone down on them in a fall of radiant silver. Remus flinched, then cringed. He held his abject pose for a long moment, and then slowly straightened when nothing more happened.   
Slowly, with great trepidation, he turned his face up to the full moon and looked at it full on.   
Nothing happened.  
He looked down at his still-human arms, and then ran his hands over his face, and his teeth and his ears. He was still human.  
There was no fur, no fangs, no claws. There was no creeping madness slowly swamping his mind under. There was no crack and tear as his body broke and reformed itself.  
He was human.  
He looked back up at the full moon in wonder. It really was beautiful—he’d never really appreciated the sight of it before, for obvious reasons.   
   
“This doesn’t make any sense. Lycanthropy doesn’t just go away. What is going on here?” Remus said numbly.

“I think we’d both like to know that. Come on, there must be something, some clue, to tell you how this happened. Did anything strange happen? Did anyone hit you with a spell? Feed you a potion? Anything?” Sirius demanded, sounding slightly hysterical.

“No.” Remus replied. “Although…I did have the strangest dream. It’s all confused—I was trapped and then there was a giant house elf…it’s all jumbled up in my head.” He confessed, while trying to dredge up everything he could remember. 

“That is a weird dream. Did you eat something odd?”

“I’ve eaten the same things you have, remember? Winky has been handling all the meals. Actually, it’s funny…the giant house elf sort of looked like her."

“That’s it? There’s nothing else you can remember?”

“Well…I woke up with the taste of whiskey in my mouth.” 

“You don’t really drink.”

“I know, that’s what was so strange about it. Wait a minute…I have a dim memory of Harry coming to my door and giving me a shot glass.” 

“You’re saying Harry did this?”

“Let’s go ask him. I don’t quite see how he could have, but it’s our only lead right now. Why would he be the sun though?”

“Well…he is a Leo.”

“And Leo is ruled by the sun. Do you really think it could be?”

“Well, I suppose we’ll find out.”   
 

 

“HARRY!”  
Harry glanced up in confusion as he heard his godfather’s voice ring out. He’d just settled down to start reading too.

“Oddment?”  
“Yes, young master?”  
“Could you take these up and put them on the desk in my room?”

The house elf snapped his fingers and the pile vanished. He popped away a moment later.

Harry, still wondering what had brought Sirius back so soon, sauntered out into the front hall. To his surprise, Remus was there as well, and still human.

“You rang? Is it not the full moon tonight? Boy, I guess you feel silly.” Harry snickered, as he came out of the library. He glanced towards the window.  
“Awfully bright out though. What is it, three-quarters waxing or something?” 

He wandered over to the window and peeked out. “It looks full.”

“It is full.”

Harry glanced at Remus, then back at the full moon. “You’re..”

“Still human, yes. Harry, what was that stuff you gave me?”

Harry blinked and then pursed his lips in irritation—he’d meant to confund the man so he wouldn’t remember his part in things. 

“Harry.” Sirius said, a faint tone of warning in his voice. 

Harry huffed out a sigh, while making a mental note to follow up on stuff like this in the future so there wouldn’t be any awkward questions asked.

“Fine, but not here. Follow me.” 

Harry set off at a march, and Sirius and Remus, confused, followed. 

“Here, this should do. No portraits.” He added by way of explanation.

“Oh, it’s the old escape tunnel. This hasn’t been used since they created the floo network.” Sirius realized as Harry led them all into a slightly dusty room.

“The house used to have an escape tunnel? How very muggle.”

“Very damned practical, you mean. There are such things as anti-apparation wards, and the like. It hasn’t been closed up or anything, it can still be used, it just hasn’t been as there hasn’t been a need for it. It extends out far enough to get you away from any possible wards, and escape. If, for some reason you can’t get away from wards—unlikely, but possible, it eventually comes out about a half kilometer from here.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah, though not as interesting as the fact that you’re no longer a werewolf.”

“Good point. Harry, start talking. What did you give me?”

“Elixir of life.” 

“…”  
“…”

“Yes, that elixir of life, hence the need for a secure place to talk about it.” 

Sirius sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to give me grey hairs, aren’t you?”

“You mean besides the ones you already have? Probably. Sorry.” Harry added as an afterthought. Sirius snorted in reply.

“Harry? How did you get the elixir of life?”

“I made it with the philosopher’s stone I got a few months ago.”

“Philosopher’s stone? How the hell did you end up with it? I thought one of your teachers tried to but he died….”

Harry glared at Remus when he began to trail off, a look of dawning horror on his face.

“For goodness sake! I wasn’t anywhere near Professor Quirrel that night, as you very well know!” Harry growled. He kicked him in the shin for good measure.

“OW!”

“You deserved that, Moony.”

“Too right, he did! Why do people keep accusing me of murder?”

“Got me, kiddo. Why don’t you start at the beginning, huh? If you didn’t get the stone from Quirrel or Dumbledore…where did you get it?”

“Oh, that”

“Yes, that. Spill it.”

 “Well, it all started the day after I got back to Hogwarts after the break. Actually, I suppose it technically began the night I got back, though I didn’t realize it at the time…”

“Back up, explain.” 

Harry sighed, and did. He told them about finding a package on his bed, and Ron’s bizarre grabby insistence that he open it right there and then so they could all see it. He told them about taking the package with him the following morning when he went to exercise, finding an invisibility cloak within, and realizing it wasn’t his cloak, but a copy—a very good copy, but a copy nonetheless. He then recreated, as best he could, the thought process that had led him to believe that the cloak was a calculated move intended to see him towards a confrontation with a possible thief, and how his idle musings led to the mirror which contained the stone being presented to him by Hogwarts. 

“So I put it in my pocket, made myself forget about it and went about my business.”

“So, you’ve had the stone all this time and no one is in any way the wiser?”

“Well…I suppose it’s possible the mirror makes stones on command. Once you have something you can make more of it fairly easily. It would probably be a wise precaution—just because you prove yourself worthy once doesn’t mean you always will. If that’s the case, there’s still a stone in the mirror, it’s just not the one I have. If that’s the case, why would anyone notice? It isn’t like anyone was going to check to see if a stone other than the one currently in the mirror got taken!”

“He does have a point.”  
   
The two men stood there for several moments, quietly marveling over the fact that Harry had pulled off the heist of the century right under Dumbledore’s nose, without the man being any the wiser. The fact that he’d done it mostly by accident was just icing on the cake so far as they were concerned.

“How did you know how to make the elixir?”

“I looked it up.”

“There’s instructions?”

“Not specific instructions for the stone, no. I just looked up ‘elixir’ to see what it was, because I wasn’t sure. It’s an active ingredient in an alcohol solution. That’s when I remembered this one old guy, Sarge, telling me that the word whiskey was a corrupted Gaelic word that meant ‘water of life’. So, I asked Oddment for some whiskey, ground up the stone, dumped it in, and shook up the bottle. It made it glow sort of red, so I figured it worked. When Sirius said the full moon was hard on you I gave you some. I figured it was a restorative, so it would probably do you some good. Instead, it turned you into a baby.” 

Remus sighed, and Sirius started snickering. 

“I had Winky look after you, and sent Oddment to buy ingredients for an aging solution, which I brewed up as soon as I was able. Oddment fed it to you in a bottle while you were sleeping. I hadn’t realized it was going to make you not a werewolf; I just thought it would make you feel better.”   
 

 

“I’m not a werewolf anymore.”

“I thought we had already established that.”

“No…you don’t understand…I’m not a werewolf anymore! This is…I don’t…” 

Remus trailed off into bewildered incoherence. It was just starting to settle in. His dearest, most heartfelt wish, had just been handed to him on a silver platter, no strings attached. It was perhaps, still too soon for the excitement and relief to completely set in—part of him still couldn’t quite grasp that it was real. There was another part of him that did believe—and far from being elated, was terrified. He had no excuses anymore—not for any personal failings. From this point on, if there was no woman in his life, if he had no job, no home of his own, or looked like a bum, it was on him, and no one else. What if he still couldn’t find a job, couldn’t find a woman who wanted to be with him, couldn’t make ends meet? He would have to accept that it had, perhaps, been himself that was the problem all along, not his curse.  
His morbid thoughts scattered when Sirius smacked him in the back of the head, hard.

“Ow.” Remus bit out. “What was that for?”

“You’re brooding. That’s my job. Knock it off.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were.” Sirius and Harry answered together.

“Look, Remus, you have two choices now. One, you can go on as you have been, let your fear hold you back from the life you could have…or, you could accept the new start you’ve been given, and go out and seize all the things you’ve ever wanted but couldn’t have. It’s all on you now.”

Remus nearly flinched at the echo of his earlier gloomy thoughts.

“Not like that—not because you’re unworthy, or a failure, or whatever other crap you’ve been feeding yourself” Sirius scolded. “because you’re too afraid to find out one way or another.”

Remus just nodded distractedly, dry-washing his hands while he worried himself sick—the habits of a lifetime weren’t going to be overcome quite that easily. Suddenly, something occurred to him.

 

“This is a cure—not just something to help alleviate symptoms, or make the transformation easier—it’s an actual cure! We could cure all the werewolves in Britain at the very least. Given enough time, and careful management of the elixir, we could conceivably wipe it out world-wide, given the chance.” 

“I don’t think you’re quite thinking your idea through. It’s going to be hard enough coming up with a believable cover story for how you were cured. Anyone with a yen for immortality will be coming out of the woodwork to get the elixir, anyone with a yen for gold will be coming out of the woodwork looking for the stone—which in turn will lead the goblins after us to seize it for themselves, kill all of us, and anyone else who’s after it. There’s also Dumbledore to consider. You think he’s going to let us keep the elixir? He wants it for himself. Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel had to spend their whole long lives in hiding for a reason.”

Just like that, Remus was jolted out of his happy imaginings.   
A life of hiding, and fear—it sounded too much like life as a werewolf for his liking. Now that the initial shock was fading, he realized how much he was looking forward to being able to live a life without that kind of baggage. He didn’t want to go back to that…which meant, no cure for werewolves.

“It’s not right…it’s not right to keep something this big to ourselves.”

“Well, if you can find a way to get it to them, and get them to drink it, and get them aged back up to their proper ages without them knowing it was you or anyone being the wiser, go for it. Otherwise, it’s a bad idea, and you know it.” 

 “Hey, uh, Harry? Where is the elixir, anyway?” Sirius suddenly asked, sounding casual.

Harry and Remus both looked at him, and Harry sighed internally. He had been considering giving some to his godfather, to try to undo some of the damage Azkaban had done to him, but had decided to hold off until Adeline was out of the picture. He couldn’t just tell his godfather no though—not when he was looking all hopeful like that. 

“Come on.” He sighed, before turning to go trudging from the room towards the potions lab. _“Great, now it’s going to be ten times as hard to get rid of the interloper!”_

   
Remus and Sirius stepped into the potions lab and looked around, while Harry went and fetched the bottle of Odgen’s from the supply cabinet. Remus took the bottle and held it up to the light, admiring the heart of bloody golden fire that seemed to glow in its depths, while Harry busied himself getting the chart of calculations he’d made, an eyedropper, and a carefully measured vial of aging solution.   
He stopped dead upon coming out of the storeroom with the aging solution. Sirius had already downed a shotglass while Harry’s back was turned. 

“What’d you go and do a fool thing like that for? I have a chart that shows the equivalence of ounces to years that I made! Geez! Can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”

They could hear him grumbling as he dug out more ageing solution to account for the much younger age his godfather had gone back to. 

“Oddment?”

“Yes, young master?”

“Can you bring me the baby bottle you used earlier? Thanks.”

He measured out the correct amount, marched over, directed Remus to lay baby Sirius on top of his discarded clothes, which were now in a pile on the floor, and stuck the bottle in Sirius’ mouth. Sirius made an awful face at him. 

“It’s your own fault. If you’d let me finish what I was doing, you’d only have gone back a decade, and then you could have just tossed back the vial of aging solution in one gulp.”

 

   
It was rather like watching a movie on fast forward—Sirius slowly grew in size and stature, flicking through the years of his life in an instant, until the aging eventually stopped, leaving him 32 years old—the age he was supposed to be. 

Sirius climbed to his feet, and inspected himself with a smile. Gone was the evidence of years of privation in Azkaban—the cold, the filth, the poor food, the dementors chewing on him night and day. Gone was the grey hair, the lines on his face that really shouldn’t have been there, the slightly waxy, haggard cast to his face that had lingered subtly even after a year away from the place. He stretched, marveling at the ease of movement—he’d been prone to stiffness and a variety of aches and pains after spending ten years mostly motionless in his little cell. 

“Ha! Group hug! This is great!”  
“Sirius! Put your clothes on first!” 

“Huh? Oh, right.” 

Still grinning he started to dress. 

“You know, I can’t wait to see Barty’s face. He’s only been gone for two weeks. I can just imagine his surprise.” 

“Yes, I’m sure that’s who’s reaction you’re really looking forward to.” Remus teased. Sirius just gave a toothy grin in response. 

“Hey, does this mean I can have my friends over tomorrow?”

“Uh…oh! Right, you wanted to have a big siege battle, right? Uh, yeah, I suppose that would be fine.” 

Harry smiled and skipped off to call Neville on the portable floo toy. He was going to keep the place overflowing with kids for the rest of the summer if he could manage it. Let’s see how long _Adeline_ stuck around then!  
 

 

Harry had been busy since finding the stash of toys in the attic. He’d immediately seen the possibilities in the floo toy. It was indeed the wizarding equivalent of a walkie-talkie. Wizards, being silly like they were, had never seemingly realized the range of the things. Since they were controlled by magic, and had a permanent connection between the two pieces, one could use them as far apart as one liked. However, because it was a toy, they usually just got used once or twice between siblings, and then set aside once the novelty of talking to your brother or sister in a different room wore off. 

He’d sent half the pair he had to Neville, who in turn sent half of his to Ron. Draco had sent one of his to Harry, and gotten one from Greg Goyle, who’d gotten half of Vincent Crabbe’s. 

Obviously, while useful, the necessity of passing a message down the line to reach its intended recipient if you didn’t have a direct connection to them limited their usefulness somewhat—but for arranging a siege battle the following day they were perfect!  
 

 

   
Ron was the first to arrive the following morning. 

“Hey, mate. I didn’t think mum wasn’t going to let me come at first. She kept nattering at me all morning. I’ve been rushing through chores since I got up so she wouldn’t have any excuses, and she still looked like she was going to say no. Mental, huh?”

“Did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah, it’s in the box here. Dad charmed it up to make it bigger inside than outside. I had a heck of a time finding all of it. It’s been up in a back corner of the attic all this time. Mum never liked us having toys outside our room, but there was only one set, and we all kept fighting over who got to keep it, so she just took it and packed it away.” 

While he was talking, the fire flared green a second time. Harry turned, expecting to see Neville or one of the other boys, but instead found himself looking at Ginny Weasley, who promptly turned bright red. 

He slanted a glance at Ron, who shrugged. “Mum wouldn’t let me come unless she did too, which is totally unfair if you ask me. She can just go hang out with Luna or something, if she’s bored.”

“Luna? Luna Lovegood?”

Ron nodded and Ginny’s eyes narrowed, as her face took on a darker hue.

“How do you know Luna?” she growled.

“Her dad printed our book for us.” Harry replied. He didn’t mention that Luna had written the return correspondence agreeing to the deal, or that she’d written the occasional letter since then, and that he’d written to her as well. If Luna hadn’t mentioned it, he wasn’t going to either—and it seemed a good idea, considering how pissed off Ginny had looked just a second ago. 

The fire flared again, and disgorged Neville.

“Nev!”

“Hey, Harry. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Nonsense, happy to have you. We’re still waiting on a couple of people, if you guys want to head towards the ballroom.”

“Ballroom?”

“Is there going to be dancing?” Ginny asked breathlessly, before promptly turning bright red again when Harry looked at her.

“No, especially as I was only expecting _boys._ There’s just a lot of room in there. Hey Oddment, could you show these guys the ballroom?” Oddment nodded and beckoned them to follow. “Oh, and if you mess with the training dummy and get hurt it’s on your own head!” he called after them.  
 

 

“I heard voices. Your friends are here?”

“Two of them, and an extra.” 

“An extra?”

“Ron brought his sister with him.” 

“Ah.” Sirius quipped, sounding far too amused.

“Yeah, yuk it up. She keeps staring at me. It’s creepy.” 

“You won’t think so in a few years.”

“My hope is that I will still be able to recognize a fangirl when I see them, even if I do develop hormones.” Harry grumbled in return. 

“I’m sure you will, but it will mean something a lot different than it does now.”

“Psh. You make it sound like I’ll completely lose whatever reason or discernment I have now, but you talk like it’s a good thing. It sounds horrible.” 

Sirius snorted in amusement. 

 

The floo flared again, disgorging Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode and Narcissa Malfoy in quick succession.   
Harry made polite noises at Lucius and Narcissa, and the rest, before turning his attention to Millicent. 

“I wasn’t expecting you, Millie-vanilli.”

“Stop calling me that stupid name. My mum and I were at Vince’s house yesterday when the call came through about your get-together here.” 

Harry nodded, and beckoned all of them to follow him to the ballroom.

He glanced at Millicent and saw she had a castle and siege engine set of her own. “At least you came prepared.”

“Why wouldn’t I have?”

“Ron brought his sister with him. They only have one set. She asked if we were going to be dancing of all things because I said we were going to be in the ballroom!”

“Lovely, just what the world needs—a she weasel.” Draco griped. “Where have they been hiding her?”

“Home. I think she’s starting Hogwarts in September.” 

“There’s already four of them in Hogwarts. How many of them are there?”

“Seven, I think; the four at Hogwarts, the girl, and two older ones that live out of the country.”   
 

 

They found Neville and Ron already adding to the castle and wall Harry had started earlier, while Ginny sat nearby with her arms crossed, looking bored.   
She turned when she heard them come in, and her gaze immediately zeroed in on Harry, while her face began to suffuse with red once more. 

“Wow, it already looks great. Imagine how much better it’ll be once the rest of us add our parts!” Vince enthused as he dumped out his own set of blocks.

“It’ll be even better than you think! I also brought these.” Draco announced a bit snottily, as he emptied out the bottomless bag he’d been carrying.

“What are all those?”

“Expansion sets. One lets you make roads, this is one is for walls, this one is bridges, and this one lets you make extra towers.” 

“Cool. This is going to be so great when we’re done.” 

“Did everyone bring soldiers?”

“I brought the ones we had left. Bill and Charlie blew up about half of them, and the twins did most of them that were left. We have maybe half a company left.” Ron sighed morosely.

“I have a legion of calvary, one of footsoldiers, and one of archers.”   
“I’ve got calvary.”  
“Footsoldiers here.  
“Same here—special legions though. Regular soliders, with a mixed company of trolls and giants.”  
“I’ve got a legion of archers and footsoldiers.”  
“I’ve got got a company of regular calvary, one of footsoldiers, and one of special calvary” Millicent admitted.  
“You mean the one that has a couple of dragons, hippogriffs, and gryphons?”  
“Yeah. It was my dad’s. He got it for Yule when he was eight. It’s still in pretty good condition too.  
The boys all cheered—the addition of the special legions was going to make their assault on their combined castle just that much more epic. 

“Alright, everyone pick a direction and start adding to the castle. I’ll get started building roads leading in, a few extra towers and some bridges since my castle is already done. 

"Hey, you there, grab some stuff and help me.” 

Ginny’s face went a slightly darker red, but she hurried to Harry’s side, shooting a smug look at Millicent while she did so. She was slightly less smug when all Harry did was dump half a box of road making blocks on her and give her a push towards the far side of the castle with the command to ‘make herself useful’. 

She lingered for a moment to see if he’d decide he couldn’t bear to have her so far away and would ask her to stay and help him directly, but no such luck. He dumped out his own half of the blocks and got to work making a road that led up to one of the many gates the castle was now sporting.   
   
 

Sirius sat back and watched his two cousins, Narcissa and Andromeda, with exasperated amusement. They, and some others, had all gathered to put together an engagement party for Barty and Dora, who were due back in two days. They had easily arranged a menu, and compiled a guest list and a list of decorations to purchase, make, or dig out of storage…and then had started immediately on making wedding preparations. 

Narcissa was currently explaining how imperative it was that they all go to France for Nymphadora’s wedding robes, while Andromeda was insisting that if they were going to travel all that distance she’d much prefer Milan, however it wasn’t necessary as there were perfectly capable robe designers in Britain. 

“Capable, perhaps, but hardly inspired.”  
“Oh, Cissy really, stop being such a snob.”  
“I beg your pardon?”

Sirius, Lucius, and Remus, who had ventured out of whatever hole he’d spent most of the morning, exchanged glances, and wordlessly rose to go hide out in the study for a bit. The sisters had a volatile relationship, to say the least. They had been sniping at each other for a few minutes now, and the signs of a duel were imminent.

Sure enough, they heard the two women throwing hexes at each other just as they cleared the doorway.   
 

“Dodged that one, eh?”

“Those two…they’ve been like that since they were kids…of course, Bella was still around back then. She was worse than the two of them put together. She’d get them riled up, and start in with the baby talk…”

“Baby talk?” Remus asked.

Lucius shuddered. _“Ooooh, is widdle-wucy awl upset? Awl…poor widdle baby.”_ He mimicked in a high falsetto. “The worst part was Narcissa would get in on it if it went on long enough. They’d start sniping at each other in baby talk, and then next thing I’d know, there would be chairs flying and hexes. I remember one time, Bella went a bit too far…it’s funny, as I can’t for the life of me even remember what they were sniping about. Narcissa leapt over the table at her. There was food on it at the time. She landed on Bella and the two of them went sprawling in the midst of a shower of soup, mashed potatoes and gravy, and then rolled around in it, shrieking and pulling each other’s hair.” 

Sirius threw back his head and laughed delightedly. “Oh, I’d have liked to see that! Narcissa was always the prim and proper one, and she hates being dirty. It must have shocked Bella.”

“I daresay it did, if the look on her face was anything to go by, when she saw Narcissa coming across the table at her. I got myself out of there. I had no desire to end up in the middle of one of their spats. I made that mistake once. I tried defending Narcissa, and they both turned on me, before going back to their argument. Since then I haven’t even tried; I just leave them to it and occupy myself elsewhere. It did make me happy to be an only child though.” 

“I guarantee if you asked any of them if they’d be happier as an only child, they’d probably hex you.” 

“I seem to recall you hexed James once for making a similar crack to you.” Remus interjected.

“Well, he had no call talking about Reg like that.”

“You used to say worse.”  
“Yeah, but that was me.”

BOOM!  
   
“Merlin! What on earth was that!”

“Probably the boys.” Sirius answered, hurrying towards the ballroom. 

All their shoulders relaxed when they heard the boys cheering excitedly right afterwards. 

“Okay, so whatever it was, it was intentional. Good to know.” 

The three men came to a halt at the scene of devastation inside. The whole center of the room was filled with the smoking ruins of an elaborate, multi-towered, multi-winged castle. All around the castle were rings of bridges, walls and road. Four short towers had been constructed on the four corners surrounding the whole elaborate set up, and each now contained two children, who were using them as observation decks to watch the siege, and to launch boulders from their siege engines, which they had mounted to the tops. All throughout the maze-like castle, legions of small soldiers were fighting bloody battles—on foot or on horseback, while legions of archers rained tiny arrows down on them. Overhead several tiny dragons, hippogriffs and gryphons flew, each carrying a tiny soldier, who rained down spell-fire (which consisted of the ends of their tiny wands blinking different colors.   
The children watched the whole spectacle with their eyes wide and their faces shining, while they urged on the soldiers to greater heights of bravery, and launched their missles en masse into the ruins.

“Sirius! If you have a bunch of catapult boulders all land together, they flash real bright and make a big explosion!” Harry called out excitedly.   
“We’ll show you!” Draco added, equally excited.

Everyone loaded up their catapults and launched the tiny projectiles that came with it in unison. Another whole section of the castle fell to ruin while the children cheered.  
 

 

   
Andromeda made a note on the list in front of her, and sat back with a sigh. 

“Well, that looks like everything—we have a florist picked out, the wedding officiator, several preliminary menus, pros and cons for different locations, and we’ve decided to let Nymphadora pick where she wants to purchase her wedding robes from.” 

“That sounds about right. I’m glad we decided on Oglethorpe rather than Fletcher for the officiator— that friend of mother’s, Alana Dagworth? Her daughter had Fletcher officiate at her wedding. He was awful. He had a lisp and he cannot pronounce his r’ or l’s. He kept talking about _twu wuv_ during the whole ceremony, and he just went on and on! Yes, Oglethorpe will be much better, though we’ll have to book him well in advance.” Narcissa agreed. 

 

Both sisters looked a bit more ruffled than they had when they had arrived, and the dining room was a bit of a mess, though otherwise you’d never guess they’d been trying to hex each other silly just a short time before. 

“I wonder where the boys have gotten to?” Andromeda wondered as she tidied up her notes.

“Who knows? They’re probably in the study swilling spirits and smoking smelly cigars—or whatever it is men do when they’re together.” Narcissa sniffed.

Andromeda snickered. “I don’t think any of them are really the smelly cigar type.”

“Well, in that case I have no idea what they’re up to. I’m a bit surprised Luc is still with them though. You know how he hates hanging around with Gryffindors. They always seem to want to go charging off do something dangerous or messy.”

“We should probably go rescue him then.” 

“Oddment?”

“Yes Missy?”

“Where is my husband?”

“He is being in the ballroom with the others, Missy.”

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully, and Oddment vanished. “He must be checking to see what all needs doing in there.”

“Well, let’s go gather him up then. We’ve all been here for quite a while.”  
 

 

They heard the explosions long before they reached the ballroom doors. The two sisters hurried their steps, worried that some calamity had befallen everyone. They reached the doors and stopped dead.

“Luc?”

Lucius’ head snapped up, and he turned to his wife and sister-in-law with a strangely sheepish expression on his face. Remus and Sirius did the same. They were playing castles and siege engines with the children. Lucius was actually in the midst of reloading the catapult when they’d arrived. He was showing Ron and Ginny how one could keep firing even once you ran out of the small boulders that came with the set. He was loading it full of fallen enemy dead (action figures).

“Weasleys?” Narcissa muttered.

Andromeda cupped her ear and tilted her head like she was listening.

“What are you doing?”

“I was listening to see if the sky is falling.”

Narcissa shivered. “No, we’d have noticed by now; I wouldn’t be surprised to discover a couple of hells had frozen over though.” 

Andromeda glanced at Ron and Ginny, and nodded in agreement. 

Ron and Ginny glared at them suspiciously—they weren’t sure what the joke was, but they were pretty sure they were the butt of it.

 “So…are you ladies done?” Sirius asked.

“Yes, we’ll be having the party on Saturday, after they’ve gotten back.” Narcissa answered.

“I thought we were going to Friday when they’d gotten back.” Sirius said in surprise.

“We discussed it and realized it was a bad idea. Think about it, they’ve been travelling, they’re dressed casually and weighed down by luggage, bickering because their tempers are short due to various delays and frustrations they encountered along the way…and they walk in and find a big group of people, in a decorated room, all dressed for a party. We’d just end up embarrassing them both. No, it’s much better to have it on Saturday, so they have some warning, and a chance to put together something nice to wear. It also gives us a little more warning to give the guests.” Andromeda explained.

While Andromeda was talking, Lucius had stood up from where he’d been crouched on the floor, and was now looking as dapper and inscrutable as he normally did. The only thing that ruined the image was the faint air of embarrassment that still hung around him. 

“You’ll need to clean all of this up—we’ll be using the ballroom.” Narcissa added rather pointedly. “Unless you want us to host it? Our ballroom is lovely. I’m sure mother would enjoy the chance to play hostess for the engagement of her only granddaughter.”

“Winky would be heartbroken.” Harry objected.

“That’s easily fixed. We’ll give her the menu we compiled. She can come over early to help oversee the preparations.” Andromeda suggested.

“All settled then. Goodness, we’d best get the word out. You realize we’re going to have to completely redo the decorating scheme we came up with—the colors we picked won’t work if it's in my home.”

“We’d best get started then. We can see if mother is awake as well; I’m sure she’d want to have some input on the preparations.”

Narcissa and Andromeda wandered off, arm in arm, still chattering. Lucius sighed—it seemed he would be hosting a party on Saturday. What’s more, his mother in law, whom he was often able to forget was around, as she kept mostly to her own rooms, Narcissa’s sitting room, and the garden—would be up and about, sniping at him and giving orders. Lovely.

“Draco, boys, Miss Bulstrode.” He called. Draco pouted a bit, as it seemed the fun was over. 

“Everyone, you might want to back up a bit.” He added. He moved to where the boxes for the various castle pieces and siege engines were and tapped each of them in turn. Pieces from the various sets separated themselves from the smoking ruin that now took up the center of the ballroom, and packed themselves away in their boxes. Once no more pieces seemed to be coming, he flicked his wand, closing the boxes. Draco, Millicent, Vince and Greg gathered up theirs, said their farewells and followed him out.   
 

“Well, looks like we’re done for the day. Let’s get this stuff cleaned up and then we can have some lunch. Sound good?” Sirius announced. 

He repeated Lucius’ actions with Harry and Neville’s boxes, and their parts separated out and packed themselves up. What was left was a pile of sad looking pieces, and a scatter of wounded action figures, many of whom were missing limbs. 

“Uh…where’s your box at?”

Ron pointed wordlessly at the box his father had put together for everything, which he’d charmed to be larger inside than out. 

“Ah. Do you still have the original box?”

“No, it got broken.”

“No matter.” Remus told them kindly. “Pack.”

“Good! Now that that’s all done, it’s time for lunch!” Sirius announced once the last of the pieces landed in the box.  
 

 

Lunch was rather uncomfortable for Harry. Ginny squeezed past Neville, giving him a dirty look in the process, so she could sit next to him. She spent the whole meal with a red face, not saying much, and doing weird things, like putting her elbow in the butter dish, and being clumsy. She knocked over her cup of juice, dropped her fork twice. She looked to be on the verge of tears by the time the meal was over. Sirius and Remus both looked like they were biting their lips through most of it, as though they were trying not to laugh.

Harry didn’t see what was so funny—she spilled her juice on him, dropped her fork on him and splattered him with beans. If that wasn’t bad enough, she spent the time she wasn’t knocking stuff over staring at him very intently. It made for a very uncomfortable time, to say the least. 

He was already re-thinking his idea of keeping Grimmauld place filled with kids for the foreseeable future—it just wasn’t going to be worth it if Ginny was going to be around all the time, dumping stuff on him and staring at him.   
 

 

   
Later, after Ron, Neville and Ginny had gone home, Remus and Sirius took Harry back to the escape tunnel to have a chat.

“We’ve come up with our cover story.”

“Cover story?”

“For why Moony here…damn, we’re going to have to change your Marauder name.”

“Not necessarily; wolves howl at the moon, and the alternative offered was ‘wolfy’. I chose the less offensive alternative.”

“Good. That would have been hard to get used to.”

“So what is this cover story?”

“He was never a werewolf…he was an _accidental animagus.”_

“Doesn’t the animagus transformation take a couple of years?”

“You didn’t let me finish…and that’s where the accidental part comes in. He was bitten by a dog when he was four, on what just happened to be the night of the full moon. His father made an assumption based on what happened, and his mother, who was a muggle, didn’t know any better and accepted her husband's expertise in the matter. She told young Remus that he was going to transform into a monster wolf every full moon, lose his mind, and hunger for human flesh. What’s more, not only could nothing be done about it, he had to keep it absolutely secret for fear that his life would be ruined, if he wasn’t just killed on sight. Being four, he was frightened and upset by his mother’s words, and because he had no reason not to, he believed her absolutely…so much so, that he worried himself sick all month, and when the next full moon dawned, he turned into a savage wolf. With this proof, he had even less reason to disbelieve what his mother told him. Jump ahead to the present day. Moony here had been living a life of fear and worry, keeping his dark secret and trying to make his way as best he could in a hostile world. You, Harry, being the kind-hearted soul you are, decided to alleviate his worry about the upcoming full moon by confunding him to think it was the following night so he’d stop worrying. Thinking that the full moon had yet to rise, he went about his business…and didn’t transform. He was very confused, naturally. Upon thinking about it, we realized that he had never actually been a werewolf, and that it was all just a bizarre bout of accidental magic that became a self-sustaining, self-inflicted curse. Once he realized, he wasn’t a werewolf, he set about having the damage a lifetime of self-abuse had left on him—something he’d never previously tried, as he assumed the wounds would be filled with dark magic, and so unhealable. Thus, the man you see before you today—and boy does he feel silly.” 

“For that story to work, he’d have to actually be a wolf animagus.”

“Already covered. Last night I did for him what your dad and I once did for that bastard Pettigrew. I transfigured him into a wolf and then hit him with a homorphous. Moony already has a lifetime’s experience transforming into a wolf, so he actually got it a lot easier than Pettigrew did. He’s already a wolf animagus. It’s like a shortcut or something.”   
Harry glanced over to Remus and saw a shaggy wolf sitting where the man had been standing just a moment before.

“Bloody hell. Hey, can I be an animagus?”

“Let’s wait till you’re older. I’ll probably get in a lot of trouble for you being an illegal animagus if anyone finds out. Even though the damned Ministry put me away for ten years without a trial, they still made me pay a fine for being an illegal animagus—can you believe it? You’d think the bastards would have given me a pass on that.”

“Well then, isn’t Remus going to get in trouble when you start telling this story?”

“Hopefully not—he’s going to register right now, actually. It will both stave off further trouble, and be the test run for our cover story.” 

“Oh, okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” 

“Let me front you some cash before you go. We both know they’re going to make you pay the fine, even if, were the story true, there’s no way you could have known you needed to.”

“Don’t worry about it, Padfoot. I have money…granted, it’s not a lot, but I do have some. I try not to dip into it unless absolutely necessary, because it goes fast, but I do have a nest egg of sorts.”

“What is it, savings from jobs you’ve held?”

“No, that always went to my expenses at the time. I…well, I wrote a book. My nest egg is the proceeds I made from the sales.”

“You wrote a book? Did I ever read it? What’s it called?”

Remus cleared his throat and looked a bit embarrassed. “It was, um, Hairy Snout, Human Heart” actually.”

“You’re anonymous?”

“Yes, that was me.” He laughed. He stopped suddenly, and began looking worried. “Oh, no…I just realized…if I was never a werewolf, they might want their money back! It’s supposed to be the heart-wrenching story of a man afflicted by the horrors of the werewolf curse!”

“Don’t be silly. Just write to the publisher and offer them a chance to print the follow-up sequel about your amazing journey through the underside of society.” Sirius objected.

Remus started to shake his head, but then stopped to consider Sirius' idea. “Do you think they might go for it?”

“Sure. Once your story starts to spread, people are going to be really curious. They’d be foolish not to.” 

Slowly Remus nodded. “It’s certainly something to consider. It would be nice to replenish my nest egg.”   
   
 

 

Adeline shifted the pile of papers and folders she’d gathered to go over later while at home, and slipped into the overcrowded lift with a sigh. Her mind was elsewhere, thinking about what she was going to have for dinner, mostly, when the conversation taking place behind her captured her attention.  
 __  
“And he thought he was a werewolf for how long?”  
“Twenty-eight years! Can you even imagine?”  
“Is that even possible? Accidental animagus? Who ever heard of such a thing?”  
“They checked him over, and he’s not a werewolf. It turns out he was bitten when he was very young, and his mum told him he was going to become a wolf each month. He was young enough, I suppose it could have happened. Accidental magic in children is tricky like that.”  
“At four though? Most children don’t start displaying it till much later.”  
“It can happen. Babies have been known to perform rather astounding feats—I mean, think of little Harry Potter!”  
“Well, he’s different, isn’t he?”  
“Even so, this fellow was four, not an infant. If little Harry Potter can defeat a dark lord while in diapers, I don’t see why a child of four couldn’t accidentally become a wolf animagus because they believe all the certainty in their little minds that that is what’s going to happen.”  
  
“Excuse me.” Adeline interrupted. “I couldn’t help but overhear…”

“It’s mad, isn’t it?”

“I should say so. What happened, exactly?”

“Oh, well, it all started earlier, when a fellow named Remus Lupin came in to register as an animagus…”

Adeline listened to the story, and with a supreme effort of will managed to not react except as expected. 

“And Harry Potter confunded him on the night of the full moon you say? How remarkable.”

“Isn’t it just? Terribly dangerous, of course…I mean, what if he’d been a real werewolf? The poor boy might have been eaten!”

“Not him! He’s been blessed by magic, that one! I mean, just think of all he’s done already!”

“That’s true, isn’t it? He defeated You-know-who, rescued innocent men from Azkaban, and now he’s rescued another poor soul from a terrible misunderstanding that near ruined his whole life!”

“Blessed by magic, just like I said. “Sent to right the wrongs in our society, that one. Blessed.”

“He really is a true hero.”

“An angel!”

“Too right. Our very own saving angel. Why, I’ll hex anyone who dares say a word against the boy!”

“So will I!” 

“So this…accidental animagus” Adeline interrupted again. “How did he look? He must have been terribly haggard, if he thought he was a werewolf all this time, and was living like one…”

“He said he was, but once he realized he wasn’t full of dark magic, he took steps to correct the damage. I have a friend in the department…he said he knew Remus Lupin as a lad, and he looks younger and healthier than he did even a decade ago. It’s truly a miracle!”

“Imagine that.” Adeline replied, her voice dry. “Oh, this is my stop. Thank you for the story.”   
 

 

She stepped out of the lift and continued on her way, flooing to her flat in League Alley once she reached the Atrium. 

As she usually did, she sighed upon reaching it. Her flat was a small, uninspired thing, but it was convenient, as it sat above the law office she worked in—everyone else on the staff had homes, and she had needed a place to live, so had jumped at the conveniently located place when it was offered. Convenient, but a bit depressing; she tried to spend as little time there as possible. 

She sank into a nearby chair and tossed her files onto the coffee table, where they fanned out and some spilled onto the floor.

“Oh, for the love of…” 

A quick flick of her wand saw them stacked neatly.

Her mind was still mostly on the crazy conversation she’d interrupted earlier. 

Curious, she summoned her calendar and checked. 

_“I was right, the full moon was the day after I was there. Remus Lupin looked fit, healthy, and he was not a werewolf, I’d bet my life on that—he didn’t have any of the tells. That fellow the woman mentioned said Remus looked older a decade ago than he did now—when he would have been, what, 22 or so? He looked like a man of thirty when I met him. In fact, I wouldn’t have thought there was anything odd about him whatsoever were it not for how Sirius and Harry both reacted when they saw him…  
I had wondered at the time why Sirius was inspecting his hair and kept touching his face. If he was grey and scarred earlier that same day, it would have been a rather startling change. I suppose the question is then, why are they lying about what happened? The change happened before the full moon, so the story that Harry confunded the man on the night of the full moon, and he fixed his appearance after is an outright lie…why though?” _

   
She summoned some paper and a pencil and began constructing a chart, detailing what she knew about the situation, and any likely scenarios she could think of for how someone who had possibly actually been a werewolf could have been cured.

_“They credited Harry with having done it, so he must have been involved somehow. Insofar as it goes, the idea of a child decided to confund someone to make them feel better is actually quite believable—children do come up with the strangest ideas sometimes. Heck, when it comes to wizards, even the adults come up with strange ideas sometimes.”_ She chuckled to herself. _“So, what did he do? Perhaps…he found something lying around the house, perhaps something that was actually intended to take out a werewolf, but the properties of the potion changed as it aged and it cured him? It could happen… but no, they would have child-proofed the house, in fact, I believe Sirius mentioned something to that effect. His relatives did it while he was still in the hospital recovering. The house had been closed up for several years at that point, and they wanted to remove anything illegal or dangerous before a child came to live there. He didn’t grow up in the house, and more, he grew up with muggles. He wouldn’t have known to be wary of touching things that might hurt or attack him, and if there were any internal defenses, he likely would have set most of them off in the first few days he was in the house if he went exploring.”_

She crossed out ‘found something lying around the house’, and sat back, tapping the pencil on the paper as she thought.  
   
 _“Accidental magic? It figures largely in their story, though they say it was Remus’ accidental magic when he was a child. Again, it’s not likely. I’ve been a part of too many custody and visitation right battles involving werewolves. Accidental magic just spontaneously curing a werewolf would have been more likely in one of those cases if it was going to happen at all. Who would be more motivated to cure the curse, Harry who was living openly with a werewolf, or a child about to lose a parent because of the curse? It just doesn’t fit.”_

She crossed out ‘accidental magic’ as well.

_“He was with his muggle relatives before coming to live with Sirius—it’s highly unlikely they had anything lying around their house that spontaneously cured lycanthropy. Before that he would have been at Hogwarts. Perhaps he found something at Hogwarts? What though? What was at Hogwarts that could have cured…”_

Her eyes widened as the answer came to her in a flash. 

“The Philosopher’s Stone. It was all over that it was being kept at Hogwarts last year and a teacher tried to steal it and died for their trouble. Somehow, the child got a hold of it and gave some to Remus! But no…he was shocked when he saw the man.” 

She stood from her chair and began pacing. 

“I’m on the right track, I just know it. Something must have happened in between him taking the elixir and coming down for Harry to see him, but what? Alright, back up…how would the elixir work? It’s a method of immortality—functional immortality, at least. Does it simply stop you from aging, or does it effectively roll back time? If it rolls back time on your body, but not your mind, you could be an old man and take it, and be a young man again, and then just continue living until you were old again, or just take regular doses to keep you youthful, I suppose. If a young man took it, and it rolls back the clock…”

Suddenly, something odd Sirius had mentioned took on new meaning. 

“He said the house elf scolded him when he asked where Remus was…and she told him to leave him alone, because he was _cranky and she’d only just gotten him to sleep!”_

Just like that, she realized what must have happened.  
   
“Somehow, the child got a hold of the stone…he made the elixir and gave some to Remus, hoping to make him feel better. Remus was turned into a baby. Harry was in the potions lab when I arrived—Sirius mentioned that he’d been at loose ends because Remus was napping and Harry was making potions. Harry left the baby in the care of the house elf, and brewed an aging solution. It’s a basic potion. They might very well teach it first year, because it’s used a lot in herbology, for quick-starting plants. It’s simple enough he could have conceivably made it on his own, and it’s safe for human consumption. He brews the potion, sends it off with the house elf to return Remus to his rightful age, and wanders out to find me there with his godfather. Remus wakes from his nap, comes down, not realizing how different he looks—a lot of werewolves start avoiding mirrors when they see the toll it’s taking on them—and comes downstairs to find everyone. Harry, who hadn’t seen the finished product, and Sirius, who didn’t know any of this was going on, are both shocked. At this point, none of them know Remus has been cured…until they go wherever they go on full moon nights, and he doesn’t transform. It all fits! Except…he went in to register as a wolf animagus. The animagus transformation is supposed to be quite difficult and take a long time… If he was a werewolf, he wasn’t a wolf-animagus…and in order to register he’d have to demonstrate his form so they could take pictures and make note of any distinct markings he had…which means he really is a wolf animagus. But then…is the story true? But no…I was there the day before the full moon when everything happened. Surely he couldn’t have become a wolf animagus in such a short time! So…either they found some incredible shortcut to take all the effort out of the animagus transformation, or they’re telling parts of the truth, while changing some of the details…but why would they do that? It doesn’t make any sense.” 

She went back to her chair and flopped into it with a sigh. 

“The worst part about all of this is, obviously all three of them have completely overlooked the fact that I was there and will know they’re lying. So much for making an impression…” 

It was a rather depressing. She really thought she and Sirius had clicked. 

Feeling more miserable by the moment, she went in search of ice cream. 

Upon stepping into the kitchen, she spotted the invitation to the engagement party being held at the Malfoys place pinned to one of the cabinets. 

“Oh no…I don’t have anything to wear. I completely forgot I was going to go shopping at lunchtime because I got sidetracked…oh, that’s just perfect isn’t? Apparently I’m already so forgettable I’ve been completely overlooked in the making of a major lie, and now, I’m going to show up at the party looking like a frump in last year’s robes on top of it.” 

She checked the time and debated with herself for a moment. If she really rushed, she might just have enough time to convince the shopkeepers to wait on her before closing. Without another thought, she apparated straight to Twillfit and Tattings.  
   
 

“Welcome to our lovely…oh, it’s just you. Come in, don’t block the door.” Narcissa sighed and waved Sirius in.

“Well, that’s a helluva welcome, Cissy.”

“You’re family, I’m not going to waste my speech on you.” 

“Mother, I’ve forgotten my lines again.” Draco complained as he wandered into view.

“I had to write an essay about someone I admired, and I chose you?” Harry suggested, while having a sudden, visceral Dursley flashback.

“No, it was something different, but I think yours works better. What does the Minister of Magic look like again?”

“I’ll nudge you when he comes in, son.” Lucius assured him.

Harry shuddered and wandered past them, following Remus and Sirius into the ballroom. 

“Harry, darling! Come join us!” 

“Ooooh, Harry darling, is it?” Sirius chortled.

“Don’t get excited, she calls everyone that when she’s playing at being sophisticated.” Harry muttered, before raising his voice to call back. “Pansy, darling! You look fabulous! It’s feels like absolutely ages since I’ve seen you!” 

Remus and Sirius watched bemusedly as Harry moved to meet the little girl who’d called out to him, and they air-kissed each other’s cheeks before sauntering off together to get absorbed by the crowd of children congregated in the corner.

“He’s been spending too much time with the Malfoys. He’s turning into Lucius.” Sirius muttered, sounding horrified.

“Has he actually spent any real time with the man? I mean, I know he was at the house once, but it isn’t like he was hanging out with the children the whole time. Maybe he’s just spending too much time with that little girl. He’s a ladies man! His father would be so proud.”

“Jealous, actually. He was pants with girls—he had to chase Lily for years before she’d even give him the time of day. I wonder how that happened?”

“Probably by accident, as most things with Harry seem to. He’s being introduced to a lot of mothers, isn’t he?”

“And he seems to be charming most of them. Wow, he really is a ladies man. Who’d a thunk it?”

“Not me, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, my! Remus Lupin, is that you? I can hardly believe it! I’d heard rumors about your little misunderstanding…but wow! Look at you!”   
“Did you say Remus Lupin? Did you really think you were a werewolf for years and years? How awful! It must have been a terrible ordeal!”

“Um, well, yes, it was actually…”

“But you’re not? A werewolf, I mean. You were checked?”

“And double checked as no one trusted the initial scan. I’m curse free and clean as a whistle.”

“What a terrible thing! You simply must tell me all about it.”  
“Tell us you mean.” The first woman said with a glare, before turning back to Remus, all smiles and taking his arm. “It must be a fascinating story…terrible, of course. Your poor mother must feel simply awful.”

“She died while I was a teen, actually. She died not knowing the truth…”

“The poor woman! Although, perhaps its kinder this way. She might never have forgiven herself.” 

Remus found himself dragged off between the two very insistent ladies, each of whom had a death grip on one of his arms. Sirius, damn him, did nothing but grin and wave as he was being dragged off.   
 

 

The place was filling up quickly at this point. Sirius wandered the crowd, greeting anyone he recognized, and stopping to chat here and there, but so far, the only person he really wanted to see was the only one he hadn’t. He finished his drink and set it on a nearby tray, and began making his way towards the entrance to the ballroom, thinking to visit the room just beyond where all the buffet tables were laid out. That’s when he saw her. She was framed in the doorway, dressed in red—a good color for her with her dark hair and pale skin. Her long hair was swept up, baring an elegant neck, and a tousle of curls framed her face. She smoothed the long skirt of her gown nervously, and made an aborted motion towards the neckline of her dress, as though wanting to adjust it, before thinking better of it. 

Sirius stopped dead and stared. He couldn’t help it. 

His first thought was a jumble of ‘wow’, ‘mine’, ‘go get her’.  
His second thought was ‘crap, she was at the house! She knows damn well we’re lying out our asses!’  
   
She scanned the crowd, and their eyes met. He found he couldn’t really bring himself to worry too much about their story at the moment, not when she was right there and waiting. 

He found his feet moving him to meet her, without having made a conscious decision to do so. Adeline watched him come, a faint hint of color rising in her face as he drew nearer. He grasped her hand once he was close enough, and just brushed the back with his lips. He was hardly the first man who’d ever done such a thing to her—but this was the first time it made her shiver. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and swept them off deeper into the ballroom without a word, and then they were dancing. 

She’d intended to show up, dressed to the nines, and ignore him for a bit, hoping he’d eat his heart out, at least a little bit. Once he’d done so, she’d planned to confront him about his lies regarding his friend’s lycanthropy. 

Somehow, all those plans had gone right out the window the moment she’d laid eyes on him. 

_“No sense ruining the party. I can confront him later.”_ She assured herself. _“Much later. No sense ruining the evening either. Anyway, it’s not like it’s a life or death situation or anything. Mmm…he smells good. Ah, down girl! He forgot all about you, remember! Control yourself!...He really does smell good though…”_

   
The party had gotten into full swing by this point. The wine was flowing like water, people were laughing and dancing, and lining up to give their best wishes to the happy couple, who were radiant, and obviously very much in love. 

The Malfoys were looking faintly smug, as pulling off a party with such disparate members of society—the Minister of Magic, the Head of Law Enforcement, the Head of the Auror Division, several active aurors, Head of other departments throughout the Ministry, far-flung family members, some of whom had been part of Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix, and some who had been Death Eaters (under imperious, _of course_ )—and making it work, was quite a coup for their family and their good name.

That’s when the doors to the ballroom shattered inward, scattering beveled glass everywhere. The music faltered to a discordant stop, and several people screamed, even as hard-faced men dressed in black dueling gear started rushing into the room, wands pointed at the crowd. 

“THIS IS A RAID! NO ONE MOVE! DROP YOUR WANDS! WE ARE AUTHORIZED TO USE WHATEVER FORCE WE DEEM NECESSARY! ANYONE WHO RESISTS WILL BE GETTING A ONE-WAY TICKET TO AZKABAN!” 

Arthur Weasley stepped into view just as an elderly Wizengamot member, shocked by the unexpected proceedings, dropped her wineglass, which shattered loudly on the marble floor.

“SWEET MERLIN ON A STICK! DEATH EATERS!” Arthur shouted, horrified.

The hitwizards raised their wands, prepared to open fire, Tonks came barreling out of the crowd and began beating Arthur about the head for ruining her party, and Amelia Bones stepped forward, furious.

“STAND DOWN! THAT’S AN ORDER, PEOPLE.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A DEATH EATER, YOU BASTARD! YOU’RE RUINING MY PARTY!”

“Auror-recruit Tonks, that goes for you as well. Stand down!” 

Barty hurried out of the crowd, dragged Nymphadora back into its shelter, still red-faced and spitting mad.

Arthur and the hitwizards froze, not really knowing what to do. If your boss, and your boss’ boss, and your boss’ boss’ boss (they had just spotted Scrimgeour and the Minister) were all at a location you were raiding—were you required to take orders from them? Or were you supposed to arrest them along with everyone else?

Arthur was about to suggest just that, but the sight of Amelia bearing down on him, absolutely livid, changed his mind. 

Bones, Scrimgeour, Arthur, the hitwizards and Lucius retired to Lucius’ study to straighten out things. Narcissa pasted a smile on her face, directed the house elves to clean up and repair the glass doors, signaled the band to start playing again, urged everyone to go back to having fun while the ‘terrible misunderstanding’ was cleared up, and went to check on the elderly Wizengamot member, who was still looking a bit peaky. 

Little by little, couples began making their way back to the floor, but the damage had already been done, instead of throwing themselves into the party and having fun, everyone was shaken, and truthfully, a bit frightened. After all, who expects feral hit-wizards to crash a party and threaten you with Azkaban if you so much as move?

No one wanted to think about what might have happened had Bones, Scrimgeour and the Minister not been there. It would have been open warfare once the hitwizards started firing, and people started trying to defend themselves.   
   
 

 

“So what you’re telling me is my door is being regularly kicked in, and my family threatened, because some automatic system at the Ministry keeps spewing my name out as a possible suspect in a variety of crimes?” Lucius asked coldly.

“Well, it wouldn’t keep doing it unless you were guilty of something!” Arthur blustered. 

“And pray tell, what am I supposed to have done this time?”

“Murdered Archibald Eagle with bundimum poison!”

“I beg your pardon? Wait…Archibald Eagle is dead? Since when?”

“HA! Nice try, but I’m on to you! I know you have a stockpile of bundimum poison!”

“Because we had a bundimum problem, which we took care of.”

“How, exactly, do you know he has a stockpile of bundimum poison?” Scrimgeour interrupted.

“I saw it on the last raid, didn’t I?”

“The last raid?”

“Two weeks ago. My son fell four feet off his broom because he was startled by the hitwizards shouting and smashing up the place while he was flying in the yard.” Lucius snarled.

“That’s completely besides the point!” Arthur shouted, after a brief guilty wince—it wasn’t the boy’s fault, after all, that he had an evil father…of course, growing up as he had, with an evil father, he was probably already a lost cause…

“You didn’t have any bundimum poison during the raid prior to that! Because you laid in a stockpile so you could perform your evil deeds…of evil!”

“My evil deeds of…for the love of…Arthur, you are and have always been, an idiot. I didn’t have the bloody bundimum poison two weeks prior because we didn’t yet realize we had a bundimum problem. We don’t have it now, because we took care of the bloody problem. Why the hell do you think I poisoned Archibald Eagle anyway? True, I didn’t like the man much, but I dislike you far more, and you’re still here!” 

“AHA! See! He just threatened to kill me!”

“No, I believe he just gave what he feels is ample evidence that he didn’t kill Archibald Eagle. What’s the motive?” Scrimgeour scoffed.

“He was trying to take the Wizengamot seat he inherited!”

“Because I kept getting raided and having legal problems, and so was unable to actually take possession of the seat. He would have been next in line had something happened to me, and he figured if I couldn’t make use of it, he would. However…I did finally manage to take possession of it a couple of months ago…which means there is no longer any motive, if there ever was! You _berk.”_

“A likely story! And just where were you between the hours of ten and eleven on Thursday morning, huh? Tell me that!”

“I was playing castles and siege engines with _your children.”_

“HA! See that! An obvious, bold-faced lie!”

“Mipsy.” Lucius called.

A small house elf popped into existence next to him. “Yes, master?”

“Could you gather up Draco and Harry and ask them to come here?”

The house elf nodded and disappeared.

 

A few minutes later a tentative knock came at the door.

“Enter!”

Draco peeked his head inside, his eyes widened at the sight of all of the people within. “You called for us, father?”

“Yes, Draco. Come in boys, come in. Head Auror Scrimgeour is going to ask you a question. I want you to answer it honestly. Neither of you is in any trouble.”

“Okaaaay.” Draco replied, as he and Harry exchanged a mystified glance.

“Boys, could you tell us what you were doing between ten and eleven on Thursday morning?”

“Um…oh! We were playing castles and siege engines in the ballroom at my house.” Harry answered after a moment’s thought.

“That’s right. We arrived shortly after breakfast and left around lunch time.” Draco agreed.

“Who all was there?” Madame Bones asked next.

“Well, the two of us, Neville Longbottom”

“Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode. They came over with mother, father and I.”

“Anyone else?”

“Well, Sirius, Remus and Andromeda Tonks were all there too. They were all planning the party while we were in the ballroom. Sirius, Remus and Lucius came and joined us after Narcissa and Andromeda started fighting.”

“Was anyone else there?”

The boys exchanged another glance, peeked at Arthur, looked back at one another, and held a silent conversation. Draco nodded, Harry sighed and shrugged. Ron and Ginny were probably going to get in trouble, they just knew it—but they could hardly lie to the cops, especially as they weren’t sure why they wanted to know.

“Yeah…Ron and Ginny Weasley. It was supposed to be just Ron, but their mum sent Ginny along as well, even though she didn’t have her own siege engines, castle and soliders like Millicent did.” 

Lucius sat back in his seat, and smirked. “Thank you, boys, that will be all.”  
 

They waited until the boys had gone to speak further. 

“Arthur, I think it’s clear this has all been a tremendous misunderstanding. Take your team home; we’ll be discussing this further on Monday.” 

Arthur nodded, and dared not say a word in protest; he was too relieved to know he still had a job.   
 

 

Harry and Draco hightailed it back to the room all the children had been congregated in as soon as they were clear of the door.

“Hey Neville, can you get your mini floo? The one connected to Ron?”

“Um, I should be able to. Uh…Tweak?”

A house elf popped up, looking attentive. “Yous is calling?”

“Yeah, can you get the mini floo from my room? The one that says ‘Ron’ on it?”

Tweak snapped her fingers and handed it over.

Harry motioned him to continue, so he put his mouth against it and called “Ron? Hey Ron! Are you there?”

The other children there all gathered around to watch, wondering what was going on.

After a moment, they could hear footsteps, and then Ron’s tinny voice echoing out.

_“Neville? What’s up? I thought you were all gonna be at that party tonight?”_

“We’re still there. Ron, your dad and a bunch of hitwizards attacked the party.”

_“Oh Merlin!”_ Ron moaned.

“Hey Ron?” 

_“Harry?”_

“Yeah, me and Draco got called in to talk to the aurors and stuff after your dad’s raid appeared. They wanted to know what we all were doing Thursday morning, so your dad knows you were at my house, and so was Mr. Malfoy, and he doesn’t look real happy about it.”

_“Oh, bloody hell. He’s gonna murder us! He hates Lucius Malfoy, that why we didn’t say anything!”_

“No, no, listen. Go tell your mum what happened, and then you and Ginny go hide. Let her deal with it. That’s what mums are for, right?”

_“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll do that.”_

“Oh, and you might want to warn her that Bones, Scrimgeour and the Minister were all here, and none of them are real happy about your dad accusing them of all being death eaters.”

Another distraught moan echoed out of the tiny fake fireplace.

_“Yeah…I’ll get right on that.”_

They could hear the sound of the miniature floo being put down, and then quickly running feet.

_“Mum! MUUUUUMMMMM!”_

Neville handed the thing back to Tweak, who took it and vanished.   
 

 

The party more or less fizzled out shortly after the appearance of the raiders, in spite of Narcissa’s best efforts to assure everyone it was a terrible misunderstanding, and would surely be cleared up, and quickly. 

Minister Fudge added his assurances that he would get people working on whatever it was immediately, and left to, presumably, get started on it.

After he was gone, few others even bothered making excuses, and began to file out in droves. 

Narcissa sank down and cried after the last of the guests had gone. Nymphadora joined her—a strange bout of aunt/niece bonding; probably the first such instance they’d ever experienced.   
   
Lucius appeared a short while later, glanced around at the empty room and sighed. 

“Well, so much for our fabulous party. Everything was going so well, too. Oh, Cissy, stop. This might actually be a good thing, in the long run. It turns out there’s some sort of automatic system that simply spews out a suspects list, and its criteria seem to be rather spurious at best. Arthur has been searching these automatic lists looking for my name specifically so he could lead raids….which is, I suppose, marginally better than what I had thought was happening. I had just assumed Arthur just put together a raiding party every time he heard a crime had been committed. I suppose I should have realized there was more to it. If that had been the case, he’d have been here every day, instead of just every two weeks or so.” 

“What happened anyway? And why were you a suspect? Do you know?” Sirius asked. 

“Apparently Archibald Eagle is dead. Bundimum poison, of all things. He must have been seen very early Thursday, and found dead before lunch, as they wanted to know specifically where I was between ten and eleven on Thursday. It really was a stroke of luck that those Weasley children were over your house. It was the extra bit of information that made my alibi not just solid, but airtight.” Lucius replied with a snort. “It helps that the reason I was even a suspect was resolved months ago, and while I did have bundimum poison on hand two weeks ago, I had an actual bundimum problem. I had an inspector from Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures swing by to take a look before we tried removing them. If anyone had done even a cursory glance over the facts, I wouldn’t have been on the list at all. Hopefully this embarrassment will be enough to get whatever ridiculous system they have fixed, or done away with altogether.” 

Narcissa looked up hopefully. “Does this mean it will stop? That I can have friends over again? And we’ll start being invited places again? Really? I’m tired of living as a recluse!”

“I can’t say it’s good for my nerves.” Druella admitted. 

“I’d like to be able to have friends over too…and play quidditch. My elbow still hurts sometimes from when I fell off my broom.” Draco complained.

“We’d all like the raids to stop. It hasn’t been any sort of picnic for me either. It’s infuriating having that man kicking in our door week after week, and not being able to do anything about it. It gets expensive constantly replacing the doors. You can only repair something so many times, you know!” 

“That would be wonderful. Oh, I hope they get rid of that horrid system. I’d love to be able to have a social life again.” Narcissa said wistfully.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Interloper strikes again, a birthday party, and a surprise fit of rebellion from an unexpected source.

   
 After they had gone home, and Harry had gone to bed, Remus and Sirius sat up for a bit, talking. 

“You know, had I not spent time with Lucius these past months, or only heard about the raid and his suspected involvement in the death of Archibald Eagle…I probably would have assumed he was guilty, and bribed people to get him off.” Remus admitted.

“Me too” Sirius agreed. “And I would have cursed Narcissa as being as blind a fool as my brother had been, buying into all the death eater nonsense and living a stupidly criminal life because of it.”

“Arthur is always full of dark tales of Lucius’ towering evil. His face always darkens whenever he hears the man’s name—his whole family’s does. They start muttering about how he came slinking back to the Ministry, the head of the pack, in fact—pleading imperious and passing out gold to keep himself out of Azkaban.”

“Yeah, that actually came up when I questioned Harry on his choice of friends. He told me Ron told him that, and was constantly trying to drag him into the middle of their family feud. He told him that he didn’t know Arthur any better than he did Lucius, and chose to remind him that it was his family Pettigrew chose to take shelter with, not the Malfoys. Ron apparently stopped trying so hard to convince him after that.”

“And now he seems to be friends with Lucius’ son. How did that even happen? Ron and Harry are Gryffindors, and Draco is a Slytherin.”

“Ron and Draco both like chess, Harry doesn’t play. He encouraged them to take their feud to the chess club and battle it out there, instead of sniping at each other in class and in the halls, and trying to drag others into the middle of it. Meanwhile, he maintained cordial relations with both of them.”

 “What about the others?”

“The two boys…” Here Sirius snorted in amusement “are getting ‘Slytherin lessons’ from Harry. The girl, as you heard, was brought along by one of the boys.”

“Slytherin lessons?”

“He’s teaching them the ‘right’ way to be cunning and ambitious, and emphasizing the fact that having the qualities of one house doesn’t automatically preclude you having one or more qualities of the others.”

“Well, that sounds alright….but what does he consider the ‘right’ way to be cunning and ambitious?”

“He seems to be teaching them the Slughorn model, with more emphasis on maintaining cordial relations with everyone, not just those who might be useful someday. He also seems to be stressing the idea that not everyone has the same values, or the same idea of what constitutes a ‘successful’ society—hence, the need to learn what others’ point of view is, so you can meet them partway, and compromise.” 

“That actually sounds like a good plan.”

“Yeah…you never liked Sluggy, did you?”

“He was a decent potions professor.” Remus replied.

“Who never had time for you.”

“Exactly. It’s a bit depressing to meet a man, have him look you up and down once, and then dismiss you as completely irrelevant. I never took it personally, as he did that to everyone, with the exception of his dozen or so hand-picked favorites. At least he never discriminated by blood, as so many do.”

“Yeah, just by whether he thought you might be famous enough for him to impress a crowd by dropping your name someday.” Here Sirius grinned. “Apparently, he thinks you now qualify. I saw him chatting you up at the party.” 

Remus sighed and nodded. “I cringe to think how many times he’s going to casually mention that conversation.”

“Why, just the other day, I was chatting with Remus Lupin…you’ll have heard of him, of course—youngest ever animagus on record!” Sirius announced in a smarmy voice.

“Exactly.” Remus laughed, rolling his eyes. When they both stopped snickering, Remus abruptly changed the subject.

 

   
“You know…I’ve been thinking, about the other werewolves. Even if it might be dangerous or problematic, I don’t want to just do nothing. We would have to eliminate any who were seen by St. Mungo’s after being bit, as there would be a record of them being actual werewolves. I don’t like it, but there it is. Those who are gleefully cannibalistic, and place themselves in muggle areas so they can eat a few while transformed, well, part of me would like to cure them just so that doesn’t happen anymore…but another part of me, a part I’m admittedly not proud of, thinks they could be useful towards helping the few I can help. I know of a half dozen werewolves that sequester themselves when they’re able, or at least try to keep themselves far from where they’re likely to encounter people. None of them are cannibals, and most importantly, none of them were ever seen by St. Mungo’s. They were bit and went into hiding, for fear they’d have their wand rights taken away—if not immediately, then someday. They didn’t want anyone to know what they were, but they realized that simply trying to hide it would only work for so long if they continued on as though nothing had happened. I can help that half dozen. In fact, I was thinking that we can even use the same cover story we used for me. We’ll have to get the drop on them, and cure them without them knowing…and then I can tell them my story, and my suspicion that the same might have happened to them. I take them someplace to ‘prove the theory’ on the night of the full moon, and confund them. They don’t transform, and I tell them, look! You were tricked as well. What do you think?”

“It could work, I suppose. We’d have to plan out the snatch, grab and cure pretty well to make sure no one catches on to what we’re doing. If we can manage that, I don’t see why we couldn’t sell the same story. There’s two problems though—one, we’re going to need a stockpile of aging solution. That’s easily taken care of. In fact, Harry’s going to be brewing up a bunch tomorrow.”

“What for?”

“You know how the elves ‘fixed’ the garden by pretty much clearing out everything? Well, it turns out they saved all the seeds and pods produced by all the different plants—all of them they could get their hands on. They did the same in the greenhouse. Everything in there had just grown wild and busted through the panes in a few places. Neville is a herbology wiz or something. He’s coming over tomorrow after lunch to help get the seeds planted and quick-started, and then he and Harry are going to replant the garden and restart the greenhouse. He’s going to be making a lot of the stuff anyway—a few more gallons won’t be missed. What’s more, if anyone asks questions about all the aging solution we’re making up, we can actually take them out to the garden and greenhouse and show them what it was all supposedly used for. That part is simple. The more difficult problem is that Adeline was here before the last full moon, so she knows damn well we’re lying about something. We’re going to have to figure out what to tell her.”

“Damn. Any ideas?”

“None yet. I’m working on it.”  
   
 

“Hey, kiddo. Looky what I’ve got for you.”

“What is all that?”

“Supplies for aging potion.”

“I’ve enough for another cauldron.”

“Well, I’ve got enough here to make another four or five cauldrons.”

“That’s a lot of aging solution. Let me guess, you’re planning to become anti-werewolf commandos or something?”

“Got it in one. You’re a smart kid.”

“Are either of you any good at potions?”

“I can manage an aging solution.” 

While Harry and Sirius were talking, Remus was setting up cauldrons.

“We’ve only enough space for four.”

“Then four is what we’ll do. How long does this stuff keep for anyway?”

“Ten years, easy. After that you need to dispose of it before it starts dissolving the containers it’s in.”

“Why would it dissolve them?”

“Aging solution. It ages the container until it starts falling apart. It’s a slower process with inorganic matter, which is why you can store it at all.” 

“Good to know. I guess I never really thought that it might be dangerous.”

“Of course it is. A spill could be catastrophic for someone who’s already old.” 

“Yikes. Alright, note to self, use the stuff up quickly, handle with care.”

“Good advice.” Remus snorted. 

“I can do this one, my potion is at the simmer stage.” Harry offered, while moving to the nearest cauldron. Sirius and Remus each took one of the remaining cauldrons, and soon the room was filled with the sound of ingredients being chopped, diced and ground into powder.  
   
 

Adeline smoothed her hair and patted down her clothing before straightening her shoulders and reaching up to firmly grasp the doorknocker. She gave it three sharp raps and settled in to wait. The last echoes of her final knock had barely faded when the door opened, revealing a small house elf. 

“Yes Missy? Can Oddment be helping you?”

“Hello Oddment. Yes…is Sirius in?”

“Master Sirius and the others is being in the potion lab, Missy.”

“Oh…well…could you take me to him?”

Oddment nodded and stepped back to let her enter. He and Winky had already come to the conclusion that she would be the lady of the house someday. It wouldn’t do to get off to a bad start with his future mistress.  
After re-securing the door, Oddment beckoned her to follow. He led her through to the back of the house, down the stairs to the kitchen and through there to a door half-hidden in a back corner, past the boiler room. 

“Master Sirius is being in there.” He cocked his head as though listening, and held up a hand to halt her as she reached for the doorknob. He waited a beat, and then stepped back and nodded. He is not being busy at the moment, Missy. You can be heading in now.” 

“Thank you, Oddment.” 

“Yous is being very welcome, Missy!”

Oddment headed back into the kitchen proper, and Adeline reached forward, grasped the knob and opened the door.  
 

 

The two men and the boy within the room all turned to look at her in surprise. She gave them a cursory glance, but her gaze was captured by the very odd bottle of whiskey sitting innocuously on the counter, across from her and away from where everyone was brewing. It wasn’t quite glowing, but it did seem as though it had a golden-red fire nestled in its depths. She blinked once, slowly and then stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind her, and took a glance in the four cauldrons that were currently steaming away. She nodded to herself, and then turned to look at Sirius, eyebrow raised. 

“So….that’s the elixir of life, is it? It’s funny how that works out. It looks almost exactly how I pictured it.” 

Sirius face went slack with shock for just a moment, but he rallied quickly. 

“Wow, you’re bad at potions…anyone can see we’re brewing…”

“Aging solution.” She interjected. “You want to make sure you have plenty on hand after what happened to you…right, Remus?”

Remus smiled a bit uncertainly, Sirius stared at her like she’d grown two heads, and Harry sighed in bitter defeat. He knew, in that moment, that they were never getting rid of her.

“I don’t know what…”

“Please.” Adeline scoffed, offended. “Don’t patronize me.” She straightened to her full height and crossed her arms, before fixing Remus and Sirius with an imperious glare. “If you’re going to be running around curing werewolves, you’re going to need me. You two are very bad at being sneaky.”

“How do you figure that?” Sirius demanded, offended in turn. He thought they were both quite brilliant at being sneaky.

“I’m here, I know what you did, and I know what you’re doing. I figured it all out after thinking about it for a few minutes.” Adeline retorted.

Harry sighed again. “She does kind of have a point.” 

“Oi, you stay out of this.” Sirius protested. Harry and Adeline both ignored him.

“The only thing I haven’t been able to figure out, in fact, is how you actually ended up with the stone.” She continued, turning to face Harry.

Harry finished the potion he was tending, took it off the fire, and set it aside to cool down, before answering.

“Dumbledore’s mirror. I ran across it earlier in the year. There’s a backwards inscription across the top. It says ‘I show not your face, but your heart’s desire.” 

“A character test then? That makes sense. Part of the paradox of the philosopher’s stone is that only someone prepared to detach from the world and selfish desires is worthy of eternal life and all the gold one could need to supply any earthly desire one should have.”

“There’s always a price for stuff like that. You can live forever, but only as an observer, not a participant. It’s a trade-off.”

“That’s the part most people tend to forget.” Adeline agreed. “Alright, there’s two things I couldn’t figure out. How did the theft go unnoticed?”

“I think the mirror makes stones on demand. People change over time. You might get tired of living the simple life as a recluse, and decide ‘the heck with it, I’m gonna get young again and go live the life of a rich, debauched bachelor and have every luxury known to man, and surround myself with piles and piles of gold. If you get like that, you’re not worthy anymore, because you’re not willing to pay the price it demands.” 

Adeline nodded slowly, but then pinned him with a look. 

“You had to have known the stone was in there, and that you were being tested as a possible guardian for it. The character test would be useless unless the one being tested realized what was at stake. If there was no possibility of encountering the stone, I think most people’s conscience would remain clear. If , however, you know that you will have what many consider the ultimate prize fall into your hands, all those hidden desires that you might not have even been aware of would come creeping out.” 

“I did know.”

“How though?”

“Reasoned my way through, much like you did. Dumbledore thinks he’s a lot more clever than he actually is—either that, or he expected me to be really naïve, really dumb, and really, really oblivious. Either way, I stumbled across the mirror, and figured out what was going on.”  
 

 

Harry began bustling around, gathering containers for the finished potions. While he was doing this, Adeline and Sirius were have a mostly silent discussion, conveyed almost solely through facial expressions. Remus’ head swung back and forth, like he was watching a tennis match.  
__  
“Thought you’d lie to me, huh? I don’t put up with that.”  
“Give me a break, it’s a really big secret.”  
“Granted, but still.”  
“You forgive me, right? It was all for Harry…Remus too. That makes it okay.”  
“The hell it does. No more lying, or I’ll gut you.”  
“Oooh, you’re a violent woman…that turns me on for some reason.”  


Remus blinked, blushed, turned his back, and pretended to be busy.  
   
It was into this atmosphere that a tentative knock sounded at the door. Everyone turned to look at it. Harry started towards it, made a ‘hide that’ gesture towards the bottle of elixir, and called out ‘just a second!’. 

Sirius broke off his leering contest with Adeline, grabbed the bottle and disappeared back into the storage closet, just as Harry was opening the door.

“Nev! Wow, is it that time already? I didn’t realize we were down here so long…”

“Hi, yeah, I’m actually a little bit early. Gran has some kind of meeting or something.”

“Oh, board of governors, that’s right. I think grandpa Arcturus mentioned that at the party. We were making aging solution. We made quite a bit, hopefully it will be enough.”

“It should be. You don’t want to use too much; we just want the plants big enough to tell what they are. We’ll want to catch them up to where they’d be if they’d bloomed when they were supposed to, if they’re spring blooming plants. Anything else will stay in the greenhouse, so it doesn’t matter as much, but we still don’t want them too out of whack with the seasons. Plants don’t like that—and when they’re magical plants, it makes them ornery and temperamental.” 

“Ah, good to know. Well, since you’re here, let’s get started, eh? I have some stuff that’s ready—the new stuff is still cooling. Hey, Oddment?”

“You is calling?”

“Did you pick up the potting soil and stuff?”

“Yes, it is all being waiting in the garden.”

“Okay, thanks. Ready, Nev?”

Neville nodded, so Harry grabbed the half-full container of aging solution he’d made to fix Remus, and the boys set off to get to work.  
 

 

   
“They’re probably going to be awhile. We’re done in here, so why don’t we head off to the study?” 

Adeline took a look around the place when they entered and looked at Sirius questioningly. She had been in there briefly the week before, but there used to be a couple of portraits in there. 

“Redecorating?”

“Beefing up the security. The portrait of my great-great-great grandfather, Phinneas Nigellus, hangs right across from Dumbledore’s desk in his office. I’ve personally see him use that portrait as his own personal gopher and message-carrier. A _copy_ of that frame sits in this house.”

“And what? You think he’s using it to spy on you? That’s crazy.”

“Do you know why things got as bad as they did between me and my family? They thought I was spying on them for Dumbledore. They started subtly, and then not-so-subtly, shunning me to try and close up the leak. Looking back, it’s obvious he was, in fact, using Phinneas for that purpose, and I was just getting the blame. I should point out that Phinneas also had a copy of that frame at the Ministry as well.” 

Adeline slowly sunk into a nearby chair as the implications hit her. It would certainly go a long way towards explaining why Dumbledore’s political enemies could never seem to get the drop on him. He had a pipeline into all their living rooms!

“Yeah, it’s creepy isn’t it? I can remember a time when I thought it was incredibly cool, the way Dumbledore always seemed to know everything that was going on. Now, as an adult, glancing around my house, and realizing any one of the portraits in the hall might be storing up my words to report back to the man…well, it doesn’t seem so cool anymore.”

“Well…that explains the missing portraits. What’s with the new cover on the fireplace?”

“The floo network is actually a permanent corridor with openings into every fireplace that’s connected to it. It used to be you made a portal from where you were to where you wanted to contact or travel to. This house isn’t part of the new network. We can close ourselves off from it, because I refused the Ministry entry into the house. They can’t connect the network through the wards without my permission. This might change at some point, so I thought it wise to take precautions early, just in case. I was originally just going to ward up the thing, but I realized I’d have to take down the wards each time I wanted to use the floo—and then remember to set them back up. This cover makes that process simpler. Everything is warded up, so long as the cover is in place. When the cover is removed, the floo is accessible. When it’s put back, the wards re-engage. If anyone does figure out a way to punch through the wards so they can enter or listen at will, it won’t matter, because I have it warded and blocked from this end, and I’ll know if anyone is trying to take down the barriers.” 

Adeline got a sinking feeling in her stomach. How many times had she sat with friends, in front of the roaring fire, chatting away about any old thing, and never thought twice about it? It wasn’t even that they’d ever been discussing anything illegal, or seditious, or anything of the sort—it was simply the principle of the matter. 

“What sort of world are we living in?” she asked.

“A very creepy one, where apparently every wall, every fireplace, every candle, torch and chandelier has ears, or at least the potential to.” 

“Old magical homes are disappearing.” Adeline realized.

“Yep. And now, new families move into muggle homes, and what happens? The Ministry sends someone out, wards it up, and sets up the floo network. That stuff used to be solely in the hands of the family whose home it was. That’s no longer the case.”

“Lucius’ home used to be a muggle estate that had fallen to ruin. It isn’t something he likes to advertise, of course. His father bought it up cheap, and fixed the place up to what it is now. Is that why Arthur Weasley and those hitwizards were able to just bust in like they did, without him knowing?”

“Probably. Oh, I’m sure Lucius has his own wards on the place as well, but if the Ministry was insistent enough, I’m sure they got added to, so yeah, he’s probably not actually in control of most of them.”  
 

 

   
Harry and Neville weren’t seen until dinner time. 

“Hello boys…oh, goodness.” Remus chided, as he pulled his wand and flicked it over each of them in turn to clean off the lingering potting soil. “Don’t tell me you’ve been in the garden all this time?”

“Oh yeah. It’s getting dark, so we had to stop for the day. The elves gathered a lot of seeds and pods. We’ve only gotten through about half the seeds we’ve got.”

Everyone settled around the table, and Neville picked up the story. “The stuff we’ve grown so far, I can only identify about half of it. I brought a lot of my books with me, but I might have to consult some of the stuff at home. The stuff I was able to identify, we’ve got planted in the garden itself, the other stuff, we’ve got spaced out through the greenhouse, with the rest of the seeds of that type. We’ll have to figure out where to put it once we identify it. It would be made a bit easier if we at least knew what part of the world they’re from; that would make identification loads easier.” 

“We’re going to do a survey of the portraits later, to see if any of them know.” 

“Just ask my mother’s portrait. I’m sure she’ll be able to tell you most of what you want to know. She would have been familiar with everything out there, and because she was a big devotee of family history, she’ll probably be able to tell you where it came from, who brought it here, and any interesting anecdotes about the acquisition there are as well.”

“Cool. That will make things loads easier. I have to admit I’m especially curious about the tea plants.” 

“Tea plants?” Remus spoke up. 

“Yep. All the seeds we had available we planted, once we realized what it was, and then we aged them all a few years so we could get more seeds, and then aged those up for yet more seeds. That’s part of what took us so long, actually. We’ve got a good number of them now, all aged up and ready. We should be able to get at least two harvests out of them before summer’s end.” 

“Remus, you’re drooling.” Sirius pointed out.

“I am n…oh…well, heh. Imagine that.” Remus replied with some embarrassment as he patted his mouth with a napkin.

Sirius saw Adeline staring at Remus, looking a bit bemused.

“Remus is a bit of a tea connoisseur. He’s just excited, that’s all.” 

“I see. I’ve always been partial to coffee, myself.”

“Oh, there are a couple of coffee-bean trees too. There’s even a couple of chocolate trees.”

“We have chocolate? Huh. I always assumed my mother sent out for specialty chocolate.”

“Nah. You’ve got cacao plants in the garden. I think we’ll just harvest the first crop for seeds. According to Neville’s one book, the cacao plants you’ve got are practically extinct. You’ve got some of the other variety too,--most of the cacao plants around nowadays, the ones the muggles use, are a different type of cacao plant, or they’re hybrids of the two. We could probably make a mint in the muggle world, having those things.”

“Really? Are you sure it’s not just a wizarding species?”

“Well, it could be that too—the type you have were used by the ancient Mayans.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

“It sounds like you’ve had quite the gardening adventure. Were there any other surprises?”

“All the rest of the stuff we’ve identified so far are commonly used potions ingredients, seasonings, and the like. There’s still half the seeds which we haven’t tried growing yet, and half the already grown sprouts we’re not sure of though, so I suppose there could be more surprises.”

“We’ll let you know once we find out.”

“Speaking of which, let’s go talk to gran’s portrait.”

“Okay.”

The boys began shoveling food in their mouths as fast as they could and then darted off to go talk to Walburga.

The adults finished up their dinner at a more sedate pace, and then wandered out to see what the portrait of Sirius’ mother had to say. They found two empty stools set up in front of the portrait, who was leaning back against the back ‘wall’ of her portrait with her arms crossed, looking bored.

“Drove them off, huh?” Sirius snorted.

“Must you always be such a cheeky brat?” Walburga huffed in turn. Just then, they heard Harry shout ‘found it!’ and the boys returned, Harry lugging a large, heavy book, with a clasp on it. 

“That’s the one! Alright, open it up and I’ll show you what’s what.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the garden book.”

“The garden book? There’s a book about our garden?”

“One compiled by the various family members who worked in it or added to it over the years, yes. That garden represents a long-term investment by our family. Of course we kept detailed records. A lot of the plants are from foreign parts. You can’t always predict ahead of time how a plant will react to being moved from its native climes. Take the tea plants, for example. We had a heck of a time finding the right combination of temperature, soil conditions and amount of water to get them producing regularly. All those difficulties and the solutions that were found are detailed in that book. Some of the plants that were brought back from different family members didn’t do so well until they were cross-bred with more hardy stock—the details of such cross-breeds and experiments are in that book. I do hope the elves managed to save everything. There were some things in the garden that we probably had one of few, if not the only, specimens left in the world because of overharvesting by greedy businessmen, or muggle incursions in the area.” 

“Mother…” Sirius sighed.

“What?”

“You’re always so quick to blame the poor muggles.”

“Um, Mr. Black? When it comes to magical plants, a lot of times it is the muggles fault they disappear. There are quite a few species that have been wiped out because muggle factories polluted the local groundwater and wiped them out.” Neville spoke up hesitantly. “They don’t usually know they’re there, of course, or that they’re destroying something important…but the fact remains that muggle pollution is a real problem.” 

“Of course, if they knew the plants were there, they’d probably run off with them to study them. Either way, they’d be lost to wizards.” Harry agreed absently, his nose buried in the book. “And it’s not just wizards, and magical plants and animals that are impacted by such things. I actually read about a few places, usually very poor countries that don’t have strong environmental laws, and on top of that, the multinational corporations more or less own the government and are keeping them in power so that won’t change. They pollute the area, the muggles who live there are drinking poisoned water, growing their food in poisoned soil, breathing in poisoned air—and the local flora and fauna are absorbing this stuff too—they eat plants that have been sucking up poisoned water, the humans eat the animals….it just goes on and on, and if it’s bad enough, they start getting sick, getting sores that won’t heal, and their children start being born with birth defects. They could be born missing limbs, born without brains, or just born dead. The corporations don’t care either—it’s not hurting their home, their family. They’re making millions, if not billions. It’s a real problem. The whole world’s ecosystem is connected; even if the worldwide consequences of such localized problem areas haven’t been seen yet, they will be. Water travels, so does the air, plants drop seeds which are carried away by birds, or blown away to propagate in new areas. If those places are allowed to just keep pumping out poison, it will eventually spread far enough that the effects will be felt by everyone.” 

 “Really, Harry…you make muggles sound like monsters.” Remus objected.

“It’s not all of them, or even most of them. It’s a small number of very, very wealthy scumbags. Muggles are just people. There’s some who are very good, who spend their lives in the service of others, trying to make the world a better place. There are some who are very, very evil, who destroy lives, destroy environments, and spread disease, corruption and genocide everywhere they go. Most are just folks, not saints, but not devils either, who are just living their lives, paying their bills, and hoping to raise their kids up right, see them to adulthood, and retire to someplace warm. Pretty much like wizards in that respect. The problem is, there’s so damned many of them, the number of very evil people is quite a sizeable number, even if they’re only a very small fraction of the worldwide population.” 

“Which is pretty much what I said the other night.” Adeline sighed. “Why do we keep having this same conversation? Criticizing real problems in the muggle world does not make you a murderous maniac!” 

Harry made a face, and his lower lip stuck out in an unhappy pout. It was bad enough they were already stuck with her—now she had to go around talking all sensible-like and making him want to agree with her. The woman really was diabolical. 

Neville sighed and patted Harry on the back, correctly guessing the turn his friend’s thoughts had taken. He’d gotten an earful about ‘the interloper’ while they were in the greenhouse earlier.  
 

 

“Young sir? Yous grandmother is calling. Yous is supposed to be going home now.” 

Harry and Neville glanced down at Oddment, who had suddenly appeared in their midst.

“Oh…right. I guess it is getting rather late. I hope gran didn’t eat yet, I’m kind of hungry.”

“Me too. I didn’t eat much of my dinner.”

The front door opened and Barty stepped through. He looked over the group gathered in front of the portrait and raised an eyebrow. “What did I miss?”

“The boys were working in the garden. Mother’s portrait was just helping them identify some of the seeds they didn’t recognize.”

Nymphadora came in right behind him. Harry’s welcoming smile melted off his face. 

“Jade.” He sniffed.

“Oh come on, Harry! You have to get over this.” She complained, while stomping past Barty. Unfortunately for her, she encountered the troll-leg umbrella stand and tripped. For some reason, she couldn’t seem to make it through the front door without running afoul of the thing.

“You know, Jade, you never used to be this clumsy. I guess that just shows how deeply your deceit runs, huh?”

Having said his piece, he stuck his nose in the air and led Neville off towards the kitchen towards the floo.

Nymphadora gripped her hair and let out a frustrated scream. 

“That kid drives me nuts! It’s been a year and he’s still carrying a grudge!”  
   
“Why are you so clumsy anyway? And why wasn’t your alter-ego?” Sirius wondered.

“I don’t know, I just am.”

“It’s because she’s actually about 2 or 3 inches shorter than she portrays herself.” Barty answered at the same time.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“What? How…how do you even know that?” Nymphadora hissed.

“You change when you’re sleeping.”

“OI!” Sirius bellowed.

“Calm down. We were on the couch. Her parents couch. We were watching a movie. I saw her change colors out of the corner of my eye and I glanced over. Suddenly, she woke up and stretched a bit, and while she did so she went back to how she usually looks. I don’t think she even noticed. I mean…geez, when she stretches in the morning, she really stretches! It’s wild.” Barty explained.

“Maybe you should widen your hips some to correct your center of balance. That might be the problem.” Adeline suggested.

“If I do that I can’t get as much height.”

“Oh, you’re just redistributing your mass? Um…gain weight? A good twenty pounds would probably be enough to let you be taller and not clumsy.”

“HOMORPHOUS!”

“AHHHH! Sirius you bastard!” Nymphadora shrieked as she began shrinking and her hair turned brown. She looked mostly the same, just smaller, and a bit chubbier. She popped the button on the top of her jeans, while wincing and forcing her shoes off her feet. “Don’t you think! That hurts, damn it!”

“I wonder if that’s what woke you up before?” Barty mused.

“You’re not helping, Barty!”

“Hmmm, unmasked at last, eh Jade?” Harry quipped when he returned.

“HARRY!” Nymphadora whined. She was feeling quite beleaguered by this point. Still snickering, Harry started up the stairs towards his room, the massive garden book still tucked beneath his arm.  
 

When Harry returned to his rooms, he made immediately for the library, and looked for every herbology book he had on hand. Barty had showed him a useful spell to search a book for information, in order to speed up research. He went through the garden book making a list of all the plants he didn’t recognize—which sadly, was most of them. Once his list was complete, he laid the list atop the pile of herbology books and tapped it firmly while saying the indexing charm incantation in a firm clear voice. A line of light traveled down the paper, and then through the pile of books, and then back up. Once that was complete, titles and page numbers began to appear on his list beside the proper terms, in what looked to be his own handwriting.  
   
Harry dithered for a moment, and then went to his room to dig around for some of the old, unused notebooks he’d taken from Dudley’s second bedroom when he’d cleaned it years ago. There was a whole stack of them—the Dursleys never stinted when it came to Dudley. They were completely untouched, in almost pristine condition. Dudley hated school, hated schoolwork; most of the school supplies Petunia had purchased for him over the years had been dumped untouched in his second bedroom and never looked at again. Harry had found several boxes worth of crayons—mostly broken, colored pencils and markers, paint sets, complete with all sorts of brushes in different sizes, sketch pads, nice pens and pencils, loose leaf paper, compasses and protractors and rulers and scissors, paste and glitter, and of course, piles of notebooks.  
He had helped himself to a bit of everything, and had stored it away, thinking it might come in handy someday. He hadn’t dared use any of it in school, of course—Dudley would have seen, and then there would have been hell to pay. 

He grabbed a notebook, a pencil and an eraser and went back to his table in the library and opened the notebook to the first page. He went through the list of plants, taking notes from each of the books on what they were, how to care for them and what they were good for. Some of the entries listed particular potions or types of potions the plant was used in. Harry debated a moment, and then went and fetched a second notebook, which he set aside. He began a second list, of all the potions mentioned. When he was done with the herbology end, he’d begin a second notebook with the potions information. Maybe later, once he had all his notes complete, he’d get a big, fancy book like the Black’s garden book, and transfer his notes there, neater and more organized. 

That particular thought made him wonder…

He went to the library index and put in a search for ‘garden book’, but there was no entry. He tried ‘house book’, ‘estate book’, ‘Potter book’ and again got no hits. He sighed in disappointment, and was about to turn away, when he decided to try one last thing. “Potter family grimoire.’ For the first time, something happened. The pages flipped till it went to the ‘g’ entries, and a two of the entries moved apart and a box appeared with the words ‘place drop of blood here’. Harry found something sharp enough to prick his finger, and pressed a drop of blood to the box. The blood was absorbed and disappeared, and then a ‘click’ sounded in the quiet of the room. Harry turned in a slow circle, looking for what had made the noise, and discovered that the bottom of one of shelves had popped out slightly, like a drawer. Harry went and pulled the ‘drawer’ out—it was only about an inch wide, though he realized the space inside was much deeper than the outside would indicate. He pulled the drawer out as far as it would go and found an old, thick book with a wooden cover and ancient, rough hewn metal clasps. There was no title, nor anything to suggest what it was anywhere on the cover. He carefully lifted the book out of the hidden compartment, and sat back on his heels, just staring at it, his heart pounding. This was a treasure beyond imagining. 

The library, while certainly useful and well-appreciated—was filled with the works and ideas of other people. This book was the work and legacy of his own family. Unlike the rest of the largesse he had inherited from his parents, this particular item was something he would not be sharing, or even letting on that he knew about. This was for himself alone. He carefully put the book back into its hidden compartment and shut the drawer, marveling at how seamlessly it melded back into the wood of the book shelf. He would leave it there until he was ready to devote a big block of time discovering its secrets. Still smiling happily, he went back to his notebooks and continued on with what he was doing.  
   
Harry came down for breakfast the next morning with his gardening notebook and the Black’s garden book in tow.

“Hey there, kiddo. We were talking last night, and we realized your birthday is coming up soon.”

“So is Neville’s. His birthday is the day before mine.”

“That’s right, isn’t it? Huh, maybe we should call up Augusta, and think about having a joint party for the two of you. Ah, we’ll figure it all out. Give me a list of your friends, so we can send out invitations and whatnot.”

“Alright.”

Harry flipped to the back of his notebook and began writing with one hand, while eating his breakfast with the other. Sirius, Remus and Barty glanced at him occasionally, but he was engrossed in what he was doing. Everyone was just finishing up their breakfast, when Harry finally stopped writing. He carefully tore out the page he’d been writing on—both sides were filled. He was waving the paper to dry the ink, when Oddment popped in to tell him Neville was waiting for him in the garden, and had just arrived.

“Okay, thanks Oddment.”

Harry handed over the page he’d filled to Sirius, who took it with a confused look on his face.

“What’s all this?”

“You said you wanted a guest list, right?” Harry replied, before exiting the room to go find Neville.

Sirius looked down at the very long list, utterly gobsmacked. Remus and Barty leaned over to see it as well. 

“There has to be eighty or ninety people on there! Surely the classes haven’t grown so big since we’ve all been in school?”

“Well…we know at least some of his friends are Slytherins…and how that happened, I still can’t fathom.” Remus admitted. “Maybe…maybe some of these children are from other houses as well?”

“MacMillan—he’s a Hufflepuff…Chang…I think the Changs are usually Ravenclaws, same with the Edgecombs.” Sirius picked a few names at random from the list.

“Weasley—Gryffindor, same with Neville. Patil and Patil…?”

“I think I dimly remember Harry mentioning them—Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Nott, Zabini. Slytherin for sure, same with Parkinson.” 

“This must be the entire classlist for all four houses.”

“I’m sure Harry said there was ten kids in each house in his year. Who are all the rest of them?”

“Older kids, I’m assuming. When or where he found the opportunity to hang out with older kids not in his house on a regular basis though, I can’t imagine.” 

“If we’re going to have a crowd like this, I’m thinking a double birthday party is actually a really good idea. At least some of these kids are probably Neville’s friends too; might as well just get everything out of the way in one fell swoop.”

“There’s…eighty kids on here. If you add in parents…”

“I guess it’s a good thing we have a big-ass ballroom.” Sirius laughed. “I guess I’d best go give Augusta a call…and Adeline.”

“Adeline?”

“I can hardly chaperone, or host, a party this size all on my lonesome, can I?”

Remus smirked at his friend’s retreating back, and Barty raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Does he even realize the sort of message that would send? He might as well just post the engagement announcement!”

“I’m sure he realizes on some level, but knowing Sirius, he’s trying real hard to not think about it too deeply. He’s always thought of himself as a ‘lone wolf’ so to speak.” 

“Looks like little Harrykins is getting a mommy whether he wants one or not.”

“Looks that way, yes.”  
 

 

They didn’t see Harry again until dinnertime—Winky had taken the boys sandwiches and juice at lunchtime, and they had eaten in the gazebo in the yard. He disappeared upstairs to take a bath and change his clothes, which were muddy and sweaty from a day spent replanting the garden and hanging out in the greenhouse starting a multitude of seedlings. 

“You were out there all day, kiddo.”

“Yeah, but it was worth the extra push. We’re done. The garden is replanted—that took some time. We had to grow the initial seedlings we had out enough that they produced seeds, and then those seeds till they produced seeds as well, to get enough to cover everything. We did the same to the grass—Winky found us a spray bottle so we could mist the aging solution over the grass so it would seed and we could get enough to evenly cover the exposed ground between the plant beds. We’ve gotten several chocolate trees going—they’re even starting to sprout tiny pods. Sadly, Winky doesn’t think there’ll be chocolate in time for her to use it to make our birthday cake with. She’s real upset about that. We told her not to worry about it, but she still seemed upset. We finally convinced her we really want a strawberry shortcake with whipped-cream icing. We’ve got strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, gooseberries, boysenberries…all kinds of berries, really. There should be plenty for her to whip up a cake with. We’ve got all the potion ingredient plants laid out. There’s a really amazing variety. There’s a couple of stands of flowers that we interspersed throughout the garden so the whole thing smells nice…in fact, Winky thinks she might be able to have a batch of jasmine tea for me next week when the tea plants bloom! That tea-processing box your great-great-great uncle made is really amazing. I’m gonna see if I can find his portrait after dinner and see if I can get him to tell me how he made it. I want one of those. I figure I can also get his input on how to go about making a harvest alarm or something.”

“A harvest alarm?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about the idea when I was going over all the different plants last night. They all have to be harvested at different times, in different ways for them to be most potent. I was thinking it would be really handy to have something that would let you know a good harvest time has come up so you don’t miss it. It’s a lot to just keep track of.” 

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” 

“That’s what I thought. Once stuff from the garden is harvested, our potions lab is going to be really well stocked, so I want to make sure we get the best stuff it’s possible to get.”

“Understandable.”

“Hey, Barty, you said you were going to help us study ahead for twelve OWLs, but you haven’t said anything.”

“You still want to? Alright then, I’m sure I can whip us some sort of lesson plan.”

“You’re going for twelve OWLs? You take after your mother.”

“Mum had twelve OWLs?”

“No…she tried taking all the classes; I still don’t know how she managed it even as long as she did—I had thought some of the classes overlapped, but whatever. No, she stressed herself out and flipped out just before the end of the year. She dropped divination and muggle studies, and just continued on with what she had left. She managed ten, Remy here got eight, your dad and I seven, and Peter six.”

“I don’t know what it is about the muggleborn that makes them think they can manage twelve OWLs by attending every class. There was one in my year as well—a bossy know-it-all who walked around with her nose in the air. We were taking bets in Slytherin on how long it was going to be before she fell apart.” Barty laughed. He didn’t see the smiles immediately melt off Sirius’ and Remus’ faces, as he was looking at Harry. “By winter break she was glassy-eyed and walking around with her hair sticking out every which way. She dropped three extra classes before the end of the year—she kept divination and muggle studies. She had an absolute bloody fit when she found out I had managed twelve, and tried to hex me.” Harry snickered, and shook his head.

“I bet ya Hermione tries to do that. If Neville or I manage twelve she’ll probably try to kill us both, either that or she’ll us accuse us of having used dark magic to bewitch the education board. She’ll probably try to protest and have our OWLs revoked. She’s positively unbearable whenever anyone does better than her on a test, so I can just imagine how much worse she’d be on something that really mattered.” 

“Really, Harry…your own mother was muggleborn.” Remus chided, sounding uncomfortable.  
 

 

Harry looked at the two frowning men and then huffed and rolled his eyes. “You know what you two are? You’re reverse bigots.” 

“I object to that statement. I’m not a bigot. I believe in the equality of all witches and wizards.” Remus retorted.

“Same here.” Sirius agreed.

“You both say that, but it isn’t true. You both despise purebloods, and worship muggles and muggleborns. You’re both ashamed of your wizarding heritage.” 

“That’s is completely untrue.”

“No, it’s not. You both go on and on about pureblood bigots, but you act just like them, just in reverse. I’ve seen purebloods reflexively sneer when anyone mentions muggles or muggleborns, and you both bristle and get offended, and talk bad about them at length. You both do the same thing though—reflexively sneer, I mean-- whenever anyone mentions purebloods. So does Ron for that matter, all the Weasleys really. It’s really bizarre when you consider the fact that you all are purebloods. I really don’t get you guys.”

“Actually, I’m a half-blood. My mother was a muggle.”

“Yeah, just like that. You know what I noticed? It’s usually never the purebloods who are proud of the fact that bring up blood status, it’s usually the muggleborn and the half-bloods who were raised in the muggle world. The first thing Hermione said to most of the people on the train was that she was the first magic person in her family. All the muggle-raised halfbloods make a point of announcing the fact that one of their parents was a muggle—heck, even Jade did that. She told me her dad was, when he’s actually a wizard. What the hell made everyone so damned ashamed of having wizarding blood? It’s…it’s weird, and kind of upsetting, really. Am I supposed to walk around cringing in shame because my father was a pureblood, and only claim my mother because she’s muggleborn? That’s bullshit. I don’t understand why all you people are all so disgusted by the blood that runs through your veins, but leave me out of it.”  
   
“I…” Remus trailed off, trying to put a halt to the anger he felt rising at Harry for spouting what sounded uncomfortably like pureblood mania. Harry wasn’t a pureblood maniac—he criticized muggles and the muggleborn freely, but he didn’t hate them, or want them dead for existing. He’d said complimentary things about the muggleborn he went to school with, and seemed to genuinely admire many of the scientific advances made by muggles. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel, but he was beginning to realize his reflexive distaste was out of place, and unwarranted. It rather bothered him to know that some of what Harry had said might be true.

“Am I really a reverse bigot? Is there even such a thing? I mean…” Sirius asked.

He trailed off, looking bewildered and upset. 

“Yeah, you are.” Barty agreed cheerfully. “I was never down with people running around killing or torturing people for just being muggleborn…that didn’t mean I wanted to hang out with any of them though. I couldn’t stand most of the muggleborn I’ve known over the years. I like Dora’s father, and there were one or two I knew vaguely while in school who I found tolerable, but they’re the exceptions, not the rule. I never really felt I had to like them, or sing their praises night and day to not want them dead just for being born though, I guess.” 

“I don’t sing their praises night and day.” Sirius scoffed.

“No, but you do get bent out of shape if someone admits to not liking a muggleborn, or says anything less than complimentary about muggles…and you both do sneer reflexively whenever anyone mentions anything pureblood. You were all set to empty the house of its contents and see them burned because you are ashamed of being a pureblood wizard. I don’t know if it’s just a consequence of being a Gryffindor or what.”  
   
“Spoken like a Slytherin. You lot despise the muggles and muggleborn both.”

“Not true, actually. Just like any other house, I imagine, we’ve got our shades of grey. I grew up in a muggle area, so I found them to be mostly an annoying inconvenience and wished they’d go elsewhere. That was true for most of my classmates as well. A lot of the kids in my house had never met a muggleborn, and were somewhat curious about them, until they actually met one. I remember when I was on the train to Hogwarts the first time, there was one in my compartment—the girl I mentioned earlier, who tried to take all the available classes. There were three purebloods in the compartment as well, two ended up in Slytherin with me, and the last in Ravenclaw. They were all more curious than hostile, but they were so put off by her, they had no real interest in meeting another. She was abrasive, condescending, and looked down her nose at us. There were a lot of people rooting for her to lose it when she tried for twelve OWLs, and believe me, they weren’t all Slytherins—a lot of her housemates were rooting for it as well. The two other muggleborn in my year were alright, the little I saw of them. They were both in Hufflepuff, and I didn’t really have classes with either of them but once in a blue moon, so I didn’t know either of them well. The thing was, there was at least one ‘problem’ muggleborn in every year. The most common complaint wasn’t that they had ‘dirty blood’ or anything of the sort, it was that they’re rude, and very critical of everything wizarding, and wanted to muggle up our world to suit themselves. The muggleborn are, for all intents and purposes, immigrants in a very real sense of the word, for all that we’re all British, regardless of blood status. They were as offended by that as any British citizen would be if someone came over from, I don’t know, Sweden or something, and started demanding to be made Prime Minister, and tried to remake Britain in the image of their home country. That’s the thing that really sticks in people’s craw, when it’s not about the blood, per se. It’s muggleborn who come in , look around, stick their nose in the air and say ‘it’s all rubbish, and needs to be changed to make me happy, and the hell with what all of you want’; that’s the thing people find infuriating."

“Well, they don’t understand…”

“It’s the ones who don’t even attempt to that people despise.”

 “How typical—you’re blaming the muggleborn for being discriminated against!”

“No, I’m pointing out that things aren’t as simple as purebloods bad muggleborn good; the problem is a little more involved than that. There are some purebloods who simply hate the muggleborn because they hate them. There are others who were put off by an obnoxious one, who then became for that person the face of all muggleborn, and there are others who are so pro-muggleborn that they’d rather see the wizarding world perish wholesale than for a single muggleborn to ever be offended or not get their way. On the muggleborn side, there are those who come in to our world and try to fit in as best they can and get by. They accept wizard-raised people with a bit of humor and occasional exasperation. There are others who stomp around demanding that everyone change their way of life to suit them, and start doing their best to dismantle our laws, traditions and customs because they find all things pureblood offensive. It goes both ways, boys. It is not, and never has been, completely one-sided. In fact, Hogwarts helps exacerbate the problem, in some ways. If two kids get into a scuffle, and one is muggleborn and the other pureblooded, it’s always treated as a case of the pureblood picking on the poor ickle muggleborn, whether or not that was the case. Very often, it’s just two kids letting off steam and butting heads. Kids don’t care about blood status the way adults do—worries about weakening the bloodline and such are far from the sorts of things they’re thinking about. Even when blood slurs are brought into the mix, it’s usually a case of kids using what works to get a rise out of the kid they’re fighting with, more than it being a deeply felt prejudice. Once that happens though, it doesn’t matter if the muggleborn started things, or if the pureblood is the one who got hurt in the scuffle, the pureblood is treated like the bad guy, and they’re treated with thinly-veiled distaste ever after. You two, living as you were in the uber-pro-muggle and muggleborn Gryffindor house only got to see it from the muggleborn point of view from the sound of it. I saw the other side, living like I was in Slytherin. There were a couple of kids I remember who got attacked by a muggleborn, and were pretty much dragged through the mud from thereon out. The worst part was, once the muggleborn kids realized they would be able to get away with attacking and blaming it on their victims, they often kept doing it and played martyr. It was foolish of them…some of them ended up becoming actual martyrs, once the death eaters were out in force. The rest ended up creating a lot of martyrs—purebloods and halfbloods that took it upon themselves to stand between them and the death eaters—many of whom were probably only after them because of crap they pulled on them in school.” Barty sighed, his gaze abstracted. “Just a big, ugly mess no matter how you look at it.” 

Remus and Sirius exchanged an uncomfortable look. It had been a long-standing, deeply felt belief for both of them for a very long time now that the muggleborn were always the victims, never the instigators. It didn’t sit well with either of them to hear this sort of thing. If any of it was true, it put a new spin on a lot of the anti-muggleborn attacks they remembered from their schooldays. It had always been very clear-cut before—it was always just a case of insane, pureblood-maniac Slytherins being their evil selves. It had honestly never occurred to either of them that it might have occasionally been retaliatory strikes from victims.  
   
 

The morning of Harry and Neville’s birthday party, Neville and Augusta showed up bright and early. The whole house looked like it had been scrubbed from top to bottom, and every surface gleamed from fresh wax and polish. The ballroom had been decorated within an inch of its life—there were balloons, streamers, glitter-bedecked fairies who had volunteered to be part of the festivities in exchange for some of the berries in the yard. There was a massive strawberry shortcake with several layers that took up most of one of the buffet tables that had been set out. It was under a glittering dome of a preservation charm at the moment, so it wouldn’t grow stale while waiting for the guests to arrive. The whole kitchen was full of bustling house elves—apparently they simply joined forces when there was a large event in the offing. They visited one another after the day’s work was done, and so always knew when there were parties being planned. The little buggers loved nothing more than to work, and work hard. They thought of it as a bit of a treat to have more work than usual, and so usually flocked to a big party to help out for just that reason.  
   
“Boys, it’s nearly time. The guests should begin arriving shortly. Why don’t you go wait near the floo so you can greet everyone as they arrive?”

“Everyone should be arriving just off the ballroom there.” Sirius pointed.

“In the marble room with the two giant fireplaces?”

“Yes, that’s what it’s there for, party traffic. Just greet them, direct them towards the ballroom proper, and the rest of us will handle it from there.”

As Sirius was talking, Adeline arrived from elsewhere in the house where she’d been getting ready. She’d spent a lot of time choosing what to wear—she wanted to look attractive for Sirius, but didn’t want to get too gussied up, as it was a kid’s birthday party, not a romantic dinner for two. She thought she’d found a good balance—and the fact that Sirius leered at her when he saw her, and Augusta Longbottom looked her over and nodded approvingly—seemed to indicate she’d chosen well.  
 

The first folks through weren’t kids from Hogwarts, they were the extended relatives—mostly older folks: Arcturus and Melania, Lucretia and Ignatius, Cassiopeia, Druella, (Narcisa and Andromeda’s mother), and her niece Elaine, Adeline’s mother, Neville’s uncle Algie and aunt Enid, as well as his grandfather Adelard –his mother’s father. A couple of Barty’s great-aunts and cousins showed up as well, as he too was going to be helping out with the party since there was such a large crowd of kids expected to show up. All the old folks knew each other, of course, and they were soon ensconced in a corner of the ballroom, chatting away. 

All Harry could think was that social events in the wizarding world must be few and far between, if all the old folks were this excited to be at a kiddie birthday party.  
   
After the last of the old folks had arrived, the kids and their parents started arriving. Both fireplaces started evicting a steady stream of guests; Harry and Neville were kept busy trying to keep everyone moving so there was room for the next guests to come through. The muggleborn students came with wizarding families—Justin with Hannah Abbot, Dean with Seamus, Hermione with the Weasleys—all of them. While it was true some of the other guests brought a younger sibling—Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin, for example, who brought her younger sister Astoria, who would be starting Hogwarts the year after next—the Weasleys were the only ones who brought the whole family. Harry didn’t particularly care, though he did think it was a bit inconsiderate, as they hadn’t mentioned they’d be bringing so many extra people. He figured it was lucky that the house elves tended to make more food than was strictly necessary, or they’d have been left scrambling to find food for the unexpected extras—everyone else had told them if they’d be bringing anyone other than the guest mentioned on the invitation. He supposed they might have simply assumed that an invitation for Ron included all the rest of them by default, but even so…  
   
When the last of the guests came through and Harry and Neville were finally able to join the party, the noise level in the ballroom was unbelievable. The old folks had set themselves up at some tables in the corner, and were already partaking of the buffet. They had put up some barriers to allow people to pass freely, but to cut down the noise so they could talk to one another and enjoy the party without having to deal with the excited shrieking of the children. 

The Weasley twins were in their element, telling jokes and tossing firecrackers every which way. All the kids from the Melting Pot were mingling and talking a mile a minute—many of them hadn’t seen any of their classmates since school let out, and they were using the chance to catch up on what everyone had been up to. The parents had set themselves up in another corner, and seemed to have taken their cue from the old folks, and set up a sound barrier so they too could enjoy the party without having to listen to the kids. The only real difference was the obvious political divides among them. 

Unlike the kids who were mingling freely with whomever they pleased, and the old folks who all seemed too thrilled to have other adults their age to talk to, there were obvious cliques among the parents—they had separated by house. The Slytherins and Gryffindors at either end, with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws between them. They only acknowledged one another to sneer in disdain and mutter about their opposites. Harry wondered how many kids would be told after the party to no longer associate with some of the kids there that day. He noted that Ron and Draco, who normally spent some time playing chess and sniping at one another were ignoring each other, but for a tight nod in one another’s direction when neither of their parents were watching. He could already see a few of the parents watching the kids interacting with eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin, white line. 

Harry put the parents and their malfunctions out of his mind for the moment—the whole group of kids had been hanging out together for months and having fun; he hoped it would be enough to stave off any political divides creeping into their midst. If any did anyway, well, they had the whole next year at Hogwarts to undo the damage; hopefully it would be enough.

He and Neville waded into the center of the throng to enjoy their birthday.  
   
 

Sirius heard Adeline snicker and glanced over to her to see what was so funny.

“It’s like a tiny soap opera” she explained upon seeing his look. 

“What are you talking about? Soap opera? What on earth is a soap opera? Did someone enchant bars of soap to sing? Why would someone do that?”

“No one enchanted any bars of soap to sing. It’s a type of television drama that’s shown in the daytime. I think it’s actually an American term. Manufacturers of household soap would advertise their wares in between segments because the shows were targeted to housewives who would be buying that sort of thing. It’s not important. What I mean is that it’s funny watching the kids interact because there’s all sorts of drama and intrigue going on.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“Well…alright, look at those two.” Adeline gestured discreetly towards two of the second years who were standing on either side of the room. “Now watch.” 

“What am I looking for?”

“Just wait for it…there. Did you see that?”

“They caught each other’s eye and one rolled her eyes.”

“Yes. Those two are friends, but now look over there.” She gestured towards the parents’ area. The mothers of the two in question were oh-so-politely snarling at one another while sipping punch.

Sirius grunted rather sadly. Downplaying one’s friendship with an ‘unapproved person’ was something he himself was intimately familiar with. He’d accepted lectures about finding a better class of friends for years, and gotten his mother off his case with reminders that he couldn’t simply snub all his housemates, until he’d finally had enough and they’d gotten into the argument that had led to him running away from home at 16.

“Oh, it gets more interesting. Look at your godson.”

“Oho!” Sirius crowed gleefully under his breath. “And who is that?” he wondered. Harry was standing with a mixed group of kids. That wasn’t what was interesting. What was interesting was the fact that every time he looked at the little girl adjacent to himself he would get a sort of dazed look on his face and break out into a goofy grin, while the little girl he was grinning at would giggle and blush and toss her hair over her shoulder.

“Yes, they’re very cute. Now, look between them.” 

Sirius looked back and this time noted the head full of red hair, and the bright red face of the little girl wedged between them. Ginny Weasley was bristling and glaring daggers at the other girl.

“Awfully territorial, isn’t she? What’s she gonna do, piss on him next?”

“Sirius, don’t be crude.”

“Look at that scene and tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.” Sirius snorted in return. He raised an eyebrow and then grinned when Adeline crossed her arms and grimaced in annoyance.  
 

 

   
“You don’t quite fit in with any of the groups here.” Barty told Percy Weasley as he sat down beside him. “I saw you get chased off by that lot over there.”

“Story of my life.” Percy replied somewhat bitterly.

“What do you mean? Barty, by the way.”

“Percy Weasley, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Crouch.”

“Oi, none of that Mr. Crouch stuff. You make me feel old. Barty is fine. Percy, huh? Any relation to Charlie Weasley? He went to school with my fiancée.”

“He’s my older brother. I’ve another older still off in Egypt, and then those two” he pointed out the twins, who were still performing for the crowd “that one” he pointed out Ron, who was animatedly discussing the latest Chudley Cannons’ game with a group of other quidditch fans “and that one over there…what on earth is she doing? I mean, my word, she’s not even eleven yet, and look at her! She’s positively stalking…oh, that’s right, mother, encourage that sort of behavior. Honestly! The way she indulges her sometimes…” he trailed off, blushed when he realized Barty was listening avidly to every word he said and cleared his throat in embarrassment. “My sister Ginny; she’s the youngest.” He concluded lamely. 

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot going on there. Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“You have something better to do?”

 Percy sighed, looked around at the room full of twelve year olds, and assorted slightly older and slightly younger children, the parents, and the old folks, and then sighed again.

“Not really. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’m going into my sixth year, for Merlin’s sake! I’m also a prefect, and I’ve just completed twelve OWLs” he added rather pompously. “I haven’t gotten my results yet, but I’m certain I did well. I worked very hard these last few years to make it happen. I’m certain I should have been trusted to spend the afternoon alone without supervision. I’m the good one. It’s the twins who are the troublemakers, not me, but oh no. Mother wouldn’t hear of it, and drug me along even though I had plans.”

“Hot date?”

“Oh please. As if I’d ever give the rest of them that sort of ammunition against me. No, I was going to revise my Minister of Magic speech.”

“Your minister of magic speech? Last I checked that was Cornelius Fudge.”

“Well, I’m not minister yet…I’ve got plans though, you know. Twelve OWLs was just the first step. No, I’m hoping to be Minister of Magic someday. I’ve already gotten my acceptance speech written. I revise it every so often and then practice it. I want it to be perfect, you see.”

As Percy continued speaking, getting more pompous and full of himself with every word, Barty realized with a sinking feeling that the kid could have been him when he was younger. He could remember bragging on his twelve OWLs and his big plans for the future. At the time, he’d thought he sounded sophisticated, responsible and together. Sitting across from someone just like himself, he realized what an odious bore he’d been; he found himself idly wondering if that’s why his father never liked him. His father was a bit of an odious bore himself. He might very well have had a similar revelation about himself when Barty was Percy’s age. It was a disquieting thought. 

He focused back in on what Percy was saying, and found that he was still just going on and on about himself. Winky appeared beside him and left a scotch on the rocks in front of both of them, and then disappeared. Barty had to bite his lip to keep from laughing—house elves sometimes just knew what you wanted and needed.

“Drink up, lad, it’s a party don’t you know. If you ask me, you could stand to loosen up a bit. Relax, have fun. Your speech will still be there in the morning.” 

Percy looked at the scotch and his chest puffed out a bit. He was obviously congratulating himself on being such an impressive man-of-the-world. Barty wondered if he’d been that transparent, back in those long ago days. He realized that yeah, he probably had been, and wondered how anyone had put up with him.  
   
 

“Well, come now, you can’t just leave everything so vague!” Molly huffed.

“Sorry, Molly, but I just heard back from my publisher. They’re willing to buy my sequel to Hairy Snout, Human Heart. If I tell you all the details now, there won’t be anything left for the book.”

“Remus John Lupin! Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve known you for years! You cannot possible tell me you’re going to make me buy a book to find out what happened!” Molly growled.

“I’m not telling the story in public until after the book is out, I’m sorry Molly. I hate to say it, but I really need the money. I haven’t been able to hold down a regular job for most of my adult life because of my condition.”

“But you weren’t even actually a werewolf, you just said!”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I believed I was, and so did everyone else.” 

“Remus, really…it’s not like I’m going to tell everyone.” 

“I’m sorry Molly, but it’s not just you in this room, is it? That’s a lot of potential sales I’d be throwing away, and if everyone currently listening just told one person, that’s a whole lot more sales. I can’t do it.” 

Molly looked prepared to argue further, but Remus had his placid, passive-aggressive face on, so she knew she’d not be having any luck pushing further. 

“So…Arthur still has a job, does he? That’s good.” Remus spoke up after a moment’s silence, in an attempt to change the subject.

Molly’s eyes widened, and a flush began to suffuse her face with color. Her eyes darted around at the people sitting nearby, who were now all listening in a bit less subtly, and then back to Remus, filled with frustrated rage. She pasted a wide smile on her face and laughed loudly, as though he’d just told a very funny joke. 

“Of course he does, Remus, what a thing to say!” Her eyes promised death if he didn’t go along with her."

“Well, it’s just that, usually, calling your boss, let alone the three highest superiors, death eaters, is a thing that sort of ruins a man’s career. I was just saying he was lucky, that’s all.” Molly’s eyes narrowed, and the color was rising faster now. “Really, Remus! Whatever you may have heard I assure you it was all blown completely out of proportion.”

“Molly…I was there. It really wasn’t.” 

Molly blinked and looked at him like he’d just grown a second head. 

“You were there? At Lucius Malfoy’s home?” she demanded, sounding scandalized. “Black at least I could understand…not approve, mind you…especially taking Harry Potter there” she huffed as though the very idea were offensive to her. “But you. What on earth were you doing there?”

“I have been living here, along with Sirius, and Barty for a year now. It was Barty’s engagement party, after all.” Remus pointed out, his voice mild.

“Well…I suppose there is that.” Molly granted. “I still don’t see why you had to hold it in that man’s home.”

“Lucius isn’t so bad Molly. I’ve actually grown quite fond of him. He has a rather droll sense of humor, and he’s quite intelligent and well-read.” Molly muttered something unflattering under her breath.

“Your children seem to like him.” Remus added. “You should have seen him showing them all the tricks the little siege engines and action figures are capable of. I didn’t have one of those play sets when I was little, but even if I had, I probably wouldn’t have ever thought to have the giants form the enemy dead into boulders so they could be flung at the castle once you ran out of boulders. It was apparently a common practice during wartime, back in the day. It was so common and expected, in fact, that Hogwarts actually has a ward to block their dead being used as projectiles should the castle ever be attacked. The first such ward of its kind, I’m told…” he trailed off, realizing Molly was staring at him rather aghast.

Remus cleared his throat self-consciously and gave her an apologetic smile. “Ah, yes…perhaps talking of flung corpses and warfare isn’t the best topic while we’re trying to enjoy Winky’s lovely cake here. Um…so…how are you Molly? Doing well?”  
   
 

“I want to ask you a question, girls, and I expect a thorough answer.”

The women broke off their conversation and looked at the group of old folks surrounding their table. They were all dressed in black, in robes of a style that hadn’t been popular in decades—long, layered, heavily embroidered and accented with lace, that swathed their frail forms from neck to wrists to ankles. Several were leaning on canes, and their faces were universally wrinkled, their hair white with age, their skin paper thin. Their eyes were sharp and inquisitive though.

The women exchanged a bemused look before turning back to the old folks.

“Yes? What can we help you with?”

“I want to know why you’re all pretending to be muggles, and why you’re forcing your children to pretend to be muggles!”

“I beg your pardon?” the speaker inquired, her voice frosty.

“Look at you! Wearing trousers, arms bare…why in my day…!”

“Well, times change.”

“Not that much they don’t. Now we asked all of you a question. Why are you all pretending to be muggles? Look at all of you! You even smell funny, and you! Your hair’s all stiff! And you! That color is like no color charm I’ve ever seen…and it wasn’t cast right! Not only is the color a color never seen in nature, you missed the top parts of your hair! What’s the sense in that?” 

The women who’d been singled out patted their hair self-consciously.

“I live in a muggle area.” The first woman said stiffly. “One has to make allowances. That’s just the way things are.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re all tarted up like a muggle for a child’s birthday party.”

“We’re in the middle of London!”

“So? What does that have to do with anything? You came through the floo!”

“Yes, well, how was I to know? We have to keep our floo locked down most of the time so people don’t arrive unexpectedly. It wouldn’t do to have people calling while there were muggles about.” 

“Certainly not…but why are there muggles in your house?”

“Well…there aren’t, usually, but one could stop by.”

“That’s what wards are for you daft chit! Honestly. Girls these days.”

“I just told you I live in a muggle area.” 

“And I just asked you what that has to do with anything.”

“Well, we can’t have wards to keep muggles away from the house, can we?”

“Why not? They’re easy enough to cast.”

“Well, the ministry didn’t put one up when they placed our wards. They said it would confuse the muggles if the house suddenly disappeared.”

“It would not. If it’s done right, they won’t be able to properly remember it was ever there in the first place…and what do you mean when the ministry placed your wards? Why didn’t you do it?”

“Well…I don’t know how.”

“Didn’t pay attention in school, huh? Too busy mooning over boys, I’d guess.”

“Madame, they don’t teach you warding in school.” The second woman huffed.

“What do you mean they don’t teach you warding? Of course they do! Parts are covered in Charms, transfiguration, runes, arithimancy, DADA, and then more general security in COMC and herbology! Don’t tell me they don’t teach it!”

“The ministry handles such things now.” 

“That’s the daftest thing I’ve ever heard! What good does it do anyone in your house if the ministry is holding your wards? You could have a murderer creeping in your house and you’d never even know it!”

“The ministry would and would send aurors out.”

“PFAH! A fat lot of good that’d do you! You’d all be murdered in your beds before anyone there even knew anything was wrong!”

“Daft.”  
“Mad.”  
“Just what are they teaching children these days?”  
“ How to run around pretending to be muggles and lying about like a flibberty-jibbet, being useless, and waiting for their families to be murdered in their beds, it sounds like.”  
 

 

“I like your leather trousers.”

Barty bit his lip to keep from laughing. Percy had barely touched his scotch, but the little he’d had went straight to his head.

“Get some then.”

“Haven’t you heard? We Weasleys all have red hair, freckles, and we’re really, really poor. We can’t afford things like leather trousers. It doesn’t matter though…I couldn’t wear them anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Percy the Prefect doesn’t wear leather trousers. Future Ministers of Magic don’t wear leather trousers. It’s not done, you know. Respectable folks don’t run around dressed like that.”

“I’m perfectly respectable.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a tragic ex-convict. Tragic ex-convicts can wear leather trousers and get engaged to hot women with pink hair. I can’t. I’m the good one, you see. I can’t goof off, or carry on…it’s not allowed.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone. No one. I don’t know.” 

“You’re what, sixteen? You certainly are allowed to goof off once in a while. You don’t have to have everything figured out, or have your whole life planned already. You’re allowed to slack off, and sleep in once in a while, and bollocks things up. You’re still a kid. You should enjoy it while you have the chance. Relax once in a while.” 

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. In fact…hang on.” Barty drew his wand and waved it at the serviceable, but worn and faded trousers Percy was wearing. 

“There. You’ve your own pair of leather trousers. They look good on you. The rest of your outfit doesn’t quite match though, does it? Never fear, I can fix that easily.” 

Barty finished his scotch and then considered Percy, who was blinking at him myopically with glassy eyes. A few sips of scotch and he was three sheets to the wind.

He transfigured his worn but serviceable shirt to a tight t-shirt with torn off sleeves, and his worn but serviceable trainers to leather boots. He considered the overall picture, and then added a thicker heel to the boots, and a few studs to the leather trousers. 

“There, you almost look badass…something’s missing though. I know! You need a tattoo. Don’t worry, it’ll come off with a quick charm. How about ‘mum’? It’s a good choice—badass, because it’s a tattoo, but it doesn’t make you seem like a complete hoodlum.” Barty explained while placing a simple heart-with the word ‘mum’ in the center, on Percy’s upper arm. “Hmmm…an earring too, I think.” Barty mused, performing a quick transfiguration and spell to give Percy a simple diamond stud in one ear.

“Ow.”

“Sorry. Stings a bit, I know.” Barty replied, not missing a beat. “Still missing something…”

“Wotcher, boys.” Nymphadora greeted them as she plopped down in an empty seat at the table they’d commandeered for themselves. “Well…Percy. You’ve changed your look. Were you wearing that when you came in? I like it.” 

“Mr. Crouch.”  
“Barty”  
“Barty. Barty transfigured my clothing. I told him I liked his leather trousers.”

“Good taste. I like them too. I’ve been thinking about getting a pair of my own.”

“I would very much enjoy seeing you in leather trousers, I think.”

“Oi.”  
“Sorry, Mr. Crouch.”  
“Barty. Don’t apologize. I’d very much enjoy seeing her in leather trousers as well. Just don’t do it again.” 

“I bet Penny would look brilliant in leather trousers. Leather trousers and a boob tube. I’d like that.”

“A boob tube?” Nyphadora laughed, scandalized.

“I saw one once. I asked the young lady wearing it what it was called. Girls should wear boob tubes all the time. I shall make a law to that effect when I become minister of magic.” 

“He’s drunk, isn’t he?” she realized.

“He barely touched his drink, but yeah.” Barty agreed, grinning. “He’s still missing something to make this look work for him. Any ideas?”

“His hair.” She answered immediately, pulling her wand. “I know just the thing.” She added, tapping Percy on the top of his head. “A bit of Sleakeazy will fix that.”

“Conjured?”

“Yeah. I’ve a bottle of it on my dresser. I just pulled it from there.” 

She put away her wand and began working the stuff through Percy’s hair, shaping it with her fingers as she went. When she was done she stood back to admire the job she’d done, and then considered the boy a moment longer. “Close your eyes a sec and hold still, would you?”

Percy obediently closed his eyes and managed to hold still when she drew her wand again and tapped him with it on each eyelid. “Open.”

He opened his eyes and she repeated the motion on the bottom of each eye. 

“There. Now it works.”

“Eyeliner?”

“Look at him! It’s just what the look needed. In fact…gimme your hands, Perce. Put them flat on the table there.”

“Nailpolish?” Barty demanded.

“Black. It’s a thing. Black is okay for boys, honest.”

Percy studied his black nails with bemused horror. “Mother is never going to allow me out of the house again. She’ll be certain I’ve become a delinquent.”

“I guess you’d best stay out of her way for a bit then.”

“I’m wearing leather trousers and I’ve got my nails painted. This is a most unprecedented state of affairs. I’m pretty sure such things aren’t allowed for prefects…or for future ministers.”

“They’re perfectly fine for sixteen year old boys though. You’re young, live a little.”

“Seriously, kid, listen to her. You need to find a hobby or something. What do you like to do?”

“I like sitting next to Penny in the library. She’s always wearing school robes though. I think I’d like sitting next to her even better if she was wearing a poob. boob. boobtube. I could see her bosoms. Mum covered my eyes and told me she was a scarlet woman, but I thought it was brilliant. She was a very nice young lady. She was very polite when she answered my question.”

Barty and Nymphadora were trying hard not to laugh as Percy began rambling. 

“Maybe you should find this Penny of yours and take her out on a date or something.” 

“Well, we’ll see you around, Percy. It was nice talking to you.”  
 

 

Percy absently said goodbye as Barty’s words seized his mind and refused to let go. Penny on a date. A date with Penny. He was wearing leather trousers and had painted nails though…would Penny even speak to someone with painted nails and leather trousers? 

“It’s too bad I don’t have a motorcycle. I would be properly bad ass then.” He mourned. 

If he had a motorcycle, maybe Penny would agree to go with him, and wear a tube top and hold on to him while they went roaring across the countryside, being free and rebellious and…and…wild. 

Percy Weasley had never been wild. He’d also never been impulsive, or irresponsible, or reckless. Percy Weasley played by the rules, did what was right, worked hard and tried to set a good example. 

Percy Weasley was a prefect, and had just gotten twelve OWLs.

Percy Weasley was sixteen, he’d been having fevered dreams about Penelope Clearwater for months now. 

He wanted to be where Penny was, not stuck at a kid’s birthday party, listening to the twins firecrackers and watching his little sister turn into a tiny, tiny stalker. 

That was when he remembered something.

Sirius Black had a motorcycle…and right now, he was in Sirius’ Black’s house.

Percy was suddenly seized with a reckless desire to throw caution and responsibility to the wind, and seize the moment. He levered himself carefully out of his seat and began stalking carefully towards the doors. He was going to go find Penny, and he was going to convince her to take a ride with him. 

If he was lucky, she might even agree to wear a boob tube.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boob tube = tube top
> 
> A note about Harry and Nymphadora: It's been a year. I think he's actually forgiven her, but he's just being a little shit because he can.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weasley woes, two book signings, school shopping, a muggle studies lesson, an attempted kidnapping. Also, Harry makes some new friends and saves some guys' business.

“The party was great. We should do this again next year.” Susan enthused as she hugged Neville and then Harry under her father’s watchful gaze.

“That’s the plan, but next year Neville will be hosting it.”

“Neat. I’ll finally get a chance to see the greenhouses you’re always bragging about.”

“Will you be at Justin’s party next month?”

“Yep. All the Hufflepuffs in our year will be there, everyone from the last party, and the muggleborns that will be starting first year too.”

“How’s he gonna manage that?”

“His mum wrote to Professor McGonagall to coordinate it. He thinks it will do the parents of the incoming muggleborn good to have people in the same position to talk to. My mum is really looking forward to it. She says she feels kind of isolated sometimes.”

“Oh, well good. I can’t wait to meet her. I guess we’ll see you then.”

“See you then. Bye Neville, Bye Harry…and happy birthday.”

“Thanks for inviting me. It was a lot of fun. I can’t wait till I get to Hogwarts.” Susan’s little brother, Robert piped up.

“We were happy to have you. You’ll be starting when?”

“In two years.”

“It’ll be here before you know it.” 

The boys shook hands with Mr. Bones and waved as he, Robert and Susan disappeared into the nearest floo.   
 

 

Harry looked around, waved to a few of the other guests who were on their way out, and then wandered over to where Sirius and Adeline were surrounded by the old folks. 

“That sounds like a capital idea my boy. It will not only give everyone plenty of practical experience, it will help speed up the conversion of the neighborhood. You might even find tenants among them. I’m sure not all of them have embraced living amongst muggles to the extent those two did.”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, Harry, Neville…you know how you suggested we turn this neighborhood back into a wizarding one? Well, the folks here discovered during the party that most of the guests have no real idea how to ward their homes, and so are living in muggle areas with ministry wards that don’t keep the muggles away. They’re going to have classes on setting up and maintaining wards and I offered the use of the empty houses hereabouts to practice on.”

“Sounds good. Can I go to these classes? There’s been muggles living in my parents’ house for years now, so who knows what sort of state the wards are in. I’d like to be able to get them up and running when I eventually move back there.”

“I’d like to come too, if I can.” Neville added.

“Certainly boys. It’s never too early to start preparing for the future.”

“What about the underage use of magic restriction?” Adeline wondered.

“Pfah. That’s for children in muggle areas, and living with muggles. There’s no one around to keep mishaps in check or clean up any messes.”

“It applies to all children, I’m afraid.” she disagreed.

“Stuff and nonsense. What sort of hairbrained monkeys are running the place these days? It was considered a reasonable restriction for children amongst muggles; it was never supposed to apply across the board—children need to practice and learn their magic, after all.”

“Seems unfair to penalize the children with muggles like that.”

“Who’s penalizing anyone? There’s nothing stopping the kids from visiting friends with adult witches and wizards in the household to practice, after all. They’re just not allowed to when they’re only with muggles. Nothing unfair about that.” 

“It’s all settled then. When do classes start?”

“We’ll send something around when we’re ready. We’ve still got to work out when, where and who’s going to teach what.”

“Well, we’ll see you then, I guess.”   
 

 

After seeing the old folks off one at a time, Harry and Neville were more than ready to change out of their party clothes and relax. That was when they realized the Weasleys and Hermione were still there.

“Molly?” Remus inquired.

Molly looked to be quite annoyed about something. 

“Percy’s missing. None of the children have seen him for some time now.” She explained. “I don’t know what the boy was thinking. He should have been there, keeping an eye on his brothers and sister! This isn’t like him at all! I expected better of him.” 

“We saw him about an hour ago, when Barty and I gave him that makeover.” Tonks said cheerfully.

Molly turned a basilisk-like stare on the girl, who gulped, and then glared at Barty who looked back placidly and then smirked at her, just a bit. 

“Makeover? What makeover? What are you talking about?”

“I gave him leather trousers, and Dora did his hair for him. He looked good. There might also have been a tattoo, but it’s alright, it’ll come off with a quick charm.” 

Ron and Ginny’s mouths fell open in shock. “Wait, that was Percy?” 

“You saw him? When?”

“A little while ago, he was going through the doors there.” Ginny pointed.

“Where do those doors lead?”

“To the rest of the house.”

“Well, he’s out there somewhere. We just need to retrieve him then.” Hermione announced. She marched over to the door and reached for the handle, only to yelp when it shocked her.  
   
“What is it?”

“What happened?”

“Alright there, Hermione?”

“Fred, George! Did you do something to the door?” Molly demanded.

“No, it’s a security feature.” Sirius interrupted. 

“Well, how did Percy get through then?” Hermione growled, tears in her eyes as she cradled her hand and glared at him reproachfully.

“It’s intention based. Basically, anyone wanting to venture out into the house proper so they can snoop around, go through the drawers and cabinets and generally stick their noses where they don’t belong gets zapped.” Sirius replied evenly, not taking his eyes off Hermione. “Percy obviously had no such thing in mind, and so was able to go through the door.”

“I wonder what he was doing?”

“I can find out. Oddment.”

“Yous is calling?”

“Yeah, Percy Weasley. Where is he?”

“I is not knowing, master Sirius. He is taking yous motorcycle and going away some time ago. He left the sidecar though.” 

“WHAAAAAAT?” Molly shrieked, her children a beat behind her. 

Sirius blinked, and then bit his lip to stifle his amusement, which he knew full well Molly wouldn’t appreciate. Percy must have been off for some parent-defying teenage mischief and rebellion, or the motorcycle wouldn’t have let him near it. He hadn’t thought the kid had it in him.

Barty didn’t bother hiding his amusement. He threw back his head and laughed delightedly. “I guess he took our advice and went looking for that girl.”

“Penny or the boob tube girl?” Tonks wondered.

“Boob…ARRGH! Do not tell me my son, my Percy, has gone looking for that cheap muggle tart from the taco bell! I won’t have it! She’s a muggle for Merlin’s sake! He’s going to end up getting himself arrested and…ARGH!” Molly began ranting, as she started chivvying the rest of the kids towards the floo. Oh, that boy is going to be in so much trouble when I get my hands on him. Chasing after a muggle of all things, and a scarlet woman to boot! Of all the….” 

The kids hurried through the floo, wanting to escape Molly’s angry ranting. She disappeared after the last was through, leaving a ringing silence in her wake.

Once she was gone, the rest of them started laughing. 

 “Well, I have to say this was a huge success all around.” 

“It helped that we didn’t have Arthur kicking in our door.” Tonks sniped. She was still bitter about how abruptly and badly her own party had ended. 

“No, instead we just had Percy suddenly deciding to be rebellious.” Barty snickered. “I hope your motorcycle has some automatic functions built in, or it’s probably going to get wrecked. The kid had a bit of scotch. He was probably still drunk when he left.”

Sirius winced, still snickering. “It does. Let’s not mention that part to Molly though. Poor kid; he’s really in for it when he gets home.”

“He’ll be fine. Seriously, if anyone was due for a small rebellion, it was that kid. He’s only sixteen, but he acts like an old man.”

“I happen to agree. I’m sure it will do him a world of good to let loose a bit. Molly, sadly, will never see it that way.”

“Hypocrite. I’ve heard stories about her when she was young. The way she acts now, you’d think she’d always been a staid matron with seven children.” Tonks snorted. 

Remus cleared his throat, and gestured towards Harry and Neville who were listening in avidly.

“Oh, I already know all this. The Fat Lady and Violet talk about her and how her and Mr. Weasley couldn’t stay out of broom closets.” Harry assured them. 

Sirius threw back his head and laughed out loud, as did Barty and Tonks. Remus winced and sighed. “That’s terribly inappropriate. They really shouldn’t be doing that. Why would they even bring something like that up?”

“They heard Hermione tried to follow me into the shower, and said they had another Molly Prewitt on their hands.” 

Remus choked and Adeline looked at him askance. “You really do lead an interesting life, don’t you?” she asked.

"She didn't actually. She's just always following me around, demanding to know where I am, what I'm doing and what I'm thinking about. Pansy asked if she was going to start following me into the shower next, and the portraits ran with it."   
   
   
The following day, Neville came back to stay for the remainder of the summer. Barty was finally going to make good on his promise to help them prepare to take twelve OWLs at the end of fifth year. Sirius and Remus were both going to be busy helping the old folks with the ‘adult education’ school they were going to be setting up, teaching warding to start with, and anything else they thought the ‘young whippersnappers’ should already know, but didn’t. 

They were in the middle of taking a general test in the beginning material for all the elective courses to see where they were so far, knowledge-wise, as they had been attempting to study ahead a bit on their own—when Winky popped in to tell them there was a visitor. 

“Is Wheezy boy. He’s having a bag with him and wants to know if he cans be staying.”

“Who, Percy?”

“No, Ron Wheezy.”

“Ron?” Harry asked, bewildered. He, Neville and Barty headed for the kitchen floo to find out what was going on.  
   
“Ron? What’s up?”

“Hey, Harry. Can I stay with you for a bit? Just till mum gets out of St. Mungo’s”

“Your mum is in the hospital? What happened?”

Ron sighed, dropped his bag and sank into a nearby chair. 

“She was ranting and whatnot last night till dad got home, and then asked him to keep an eye on us so she could go look for Percy. She was so upset, she splinched herself. Dad gave her something to make her sleep and put her to bed. He figured Percy would come home on his own, and he didn’t really want to listen to her ranting all night either. Well, after mum was put to bed, we all went up and trapped Percy’s room, to punish him for running off like that. Well…mum woke up in the morning and went marching off to Percy’s room, to give him a piece of her mind.” Ron sighed again, rather mournfully. “He still hadn’t come home, so she ended up setting off all the traps. The thing is…the spells interacted and made some weird stuff happen. If the tentacled blob on the floor hadn’t of been wearing mum’s nightgown, we probably wouldn’t have realized it was her. Anyway, dad left the twins in charge, and took mum to drop her off at the hospital before heading off to work. The twins told us to do our chores, and theirs and Percy’s and mum’s or they were going to hex us, and then they headed off to their room to do whatever it is they do all day. I wasn’t putting up with that, neither was Ginny. We wrote dad a letter about how the twins had gone power-mad and so we were both going to stay with friends till mum got back.”

“So, let me get this straight…Percy’s still missing, your mum is in the hospital, and you and Ginny left. Do the twins know you’ve left?”

“Of course not. They’d have stopped us. They’re expecting us to do all the chores and the cooking and whatnot. They’re probably still busy off in their room.” 

“Is your mum going to be alright?”

“Supposed to be. They said it’ll take a while to unravel everything.”

“And you still don’t know where Percy is, or how he’s doing?”

“Nah. His hand on my mum’s clock just says ‘travelling’. It’s said that since we got home last night, and hasn’t changed once. Mum’s convinced he’s halfway to darkest Africa by now. She wrote to Bill and told him to punish Percy and send him home if he shows up in Egypt. I dunno why she thinks he’d go there. Bill likes making fun of Percy and giving him a hard time, same with Charlie.”

“Is anyone in your family nice to Percy?”

“Why would anyone be nice to Percy?” Ron asked, sounding honestly bewildered. “He’s an enormous prat.” 

“Why didn’t your parents try plotting him?” Neville wondered, ignoring Ron’s comments about his brother for the moment.

“They did. He seems to have made himself unplottable.” Ron grumbled. “He’s gonna be in so much trouble when he gets back. By the time mum, dad, the twins, Ginny and I get through with him, there won’t be much left. Bill and Charlie will probably send him hexed letters too. He’ll be sorry he ever pulled something like this.”

“Are any of you even worried about him?” Neville demanded.

“Why would we be worried? It’s Percy. It’s not like he’s doing anything interesting or dangerous; he’s Percy.” Ron explained, rolling his eyes. “So, can I stay?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure, I guess. If you’re dad knows where you are, it’s not really a problem. When’s your mum supposed to be getting out of the hospital?”

“They said a few days to a week. I’m sure dad will let me know.” 

Harry nodded, and called Oddment to take Ron’s stuff to the guest room next to where Neville would be staying.

“Thanks. So, what shall we do till lunch time, eh?”

“We’re studying ahead for twelve OWLs.” Neville replied.  
“And later we’re going to be learning how to ward houses from some old folks.”  
“After that, we’ll be working in the garden.”

“Bloody hell.” Ron sighed.  
   
   
   
“School owls.”

“Damn. How’m I supposed to do my school shopping? Mum’s not out of the hospital yet.” 

Two weeks had passed since Ron had arrived at no. 12 Grimmauld Place. Molly’s recovery was taking longer than had been expected. Ron, though concerned for his mother, wasn’t actually all that eager for his vacation to end. It was nice, he thought, not having his mum shrieking all the time, or Ginny hexing him, or the twins pranking him, or Percy trying to get him to do his chores. 

“Don’t worry about it, kid, you’ll just come with us, that’s all.” 

Ron’s ears began to flush, a sure warning sign.

“I don’t need anyone’s charity.” 

“You’ll be paying for your own stuff.” Sirius assured him. 

“I don’t have any money though. I don’t have the key to the vault either.”

“Remember that pirate book you kids wrote?”

“Yeah?”

“Over the last year my grandfather and I have been going over the various businesses and such the family owns and straightening out a lot of problems that cropped up while everything was in limbo while I was in prison. One of the things we own is a publishing house here in Britain, with offices in a few other countries. We bought out your book from Xenophilius so he got what you’d all agreed would be his price. He’d sold 800, so we bought the rights for the price of 200 copies. We also sent the manuscript off to the overseas affiliates to be translated and sold there as well. I wasn’t going to mention anything until we heard back from all your parents, but we’re going to be having a book signing event at Flourish and Blotts next week featuring all of you. It’s already being advertised at the bookstore, and in Witch Weekly, and there’ll be ads in the Prophet and the Quibbler in the days leading up to it. You kids actually wrote a pretty interesting book there. We think it’ll become a bestseller once word spreads. In fact, we’re going to launch a line of book-related merchandise as it gets closer to Yule.” 

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Ron asked “I mean, it’s great, but it doesn’t really help me with school shopping.” 

“Once they start selling you’ll be getting a cut of the proceeds—all of you will. Granted, it won’t be a whole lot, because there’s so many of you credited as authors on the thing, but it will be something. I’ll just take the price of your school things out of your cut. So, you see, you’ll be paying for everything, no charity involved.” 

“Will we all be getting a cut of the merchandising?” Harry demanded.

“Yes. We’ll make plenty of profit on the venture without having to cheat any of you kids.” Sirius grumbled. “It’s all in the contracts we sent out to everyone’s parents.”

“I’ll never see a penny of any of it. My mum will keep it.”

“Part of the contract authorizes a trust fund of sorts to be set up for everyone’s cut to be filtered into if you don’t have a personal vault, since you’re all very much underage. In theory, you should all have a tidy little nest egg waiting for you when you come of age and are ready to venture out on your own.” 

A small, excited smile broke out across Ron’s face. “That’d be brilliant! I’ll be able to move out once I graduate.” 

“So eager to leave home?”

“Well…yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but there’s so many of us, and there’s never enough to go around. On top of that, the twins are always pranking everyone—usually me and Percy. You have to be careful what you touch, and what you eat. You pretty much have to keep one eye on them all the time. And then there’s Ginny. She’s okay, most of the time, but she’s touchy and she makes my mum look like a placid woman with no temper. She’s vengeful, that one. The worst part is, you can’t fight back or you’ve got everyone on your case for picking on poor, ickle Gin-Gin. I think it’d be nice, being on my own for a bit. Being here has been like being on vacation.”

“What about Percy? You said before that he’s an enormous prat that everyone is mean to. From the sound of it, It’s the twins and Ginny you want to get away from.”

“He mostly just tries to get everyone to behave themselves, and to do their chores, and keep their rooms clean, and he tries to get the twins to knock off the pranking once in a while and study or something. He also brags about his grades and the fact that he’s a prefect and he tried for twelve OWLs, like a big pompous stick in the mud. He’s always lecturing everyone. None of us likes being lectured, but the twins and Ginny really hate it. If I go around siding with Percy, I’ll just have the rest of them going after me more than then they already do…I’d probably end up turning into a pompous bighead like him as well. I’m not having that.” 

“And everyone wonders why the kid ran away.” 

Ron scowled and poked at his breakfast. 

“I still can’t believe he just ran off like that. It’s been two bloody weeks, and no one’s seen or heard from him. Dad’s thinking about asking the aurors to take a look. Everyone figures he’s probably starving and half dead in a ditch by now, but he’s too prideful to admit he was a more enormous prat than usual and just come home.”   
   
The doorbell rang, and a few minutes later Arthur Weasley entered the dining room, led by Winky.

“Arthur. What can I do for you?”

“Sirius, hello. The twins’ school letters arrived earlier. The Diggorys agreed to take them shopping when they take Cedric, and Xenophilius will be taking Ginny when he takes his daughter. I’m just making the rounds to see that all the children have the funds they need to get their supplies.” He explained as he and Sirius shook hands. He handed over a small bag to Ron and ruffled his hair. “Oh, and I have good news. The healers think your mum will be out tomorrow.” He laughed uneasily. “I guess we overdid it a bit on Percy’s room.”

Barty sneered at him. “You helped trap your son’s room?” 

“He ran off without a word, and left the rest of us to deal with Molly’s temper.” Arthur replied unrepentantly. “Well, he’s not getting away with that a second time. I’m going to get a portkey when I go into work today. Percy’s school letter didn’t show up at the house with the rest of them, which means owls can find him, even if we can’t. He should arrive back just in time for Molly to be getting home.” He turned back to Ron and ruffled his hair again. “Come home for breakfast tomorrow to greet your mum, and welcome your brother back, alright?”

Ron smiled and nodded. “Sure thing, dad.” 

Arthur smiled back and nodded. “Well, I’d best get that portkey sent out and get to work.” He turned as though to leave and then smacked himself in the forehead and fished some papers out of his breast pocket, which he handed over to Sirius. “I almost forgot I had these. I kept meaning to send them over, but with everything that’s been going on, it kept slipping my mind.”

Sirius took them and flipped through, checking to see that everything was signed where it needed to be. “Thanks, Arthur. Everything looks to be in order. I’ll send you the time and exact date of the book signing once I know it for sure.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow morning, son!” Arthur agreed, waving goodbye to the rest of them. 

Once Arthur was gone, Sirius stood and stretched. “Alright, I guess we can head out to get your school stuff today. Neville, why don’t you go call your grandmother? Find out when she’s free and we can meet her there.”   
 

 

“Alright…robes first, I guess. We can fetch everything else while we’re waiting for them to be finished.” Sirius announced, leading them into Madame Malkins. 

There were two kids, probably first years, as Harry didn’t recognize either of them, being fitted, so they held back to wait their turn. One of the boys left, so Ron hurried to take his place. If nothing else, he was getting new robes this year. Just once, he wanted to have clothing that hadn’t been worn by every other member of this family first.

“Can we go to Knockturn Alley while we’re here? You said before that we’d go down some time.” Harry spoke up.

“Why do you want to go down Knockturn Alley?” Augusta wondered.

“I wanna see what’s down there. Professor McGonagall wouldn’t let us, because she said all the school stuff was in Diagon Alley. I’m just curious.” 

“Well, if we finish up quickly enough, I don’t see the harm in a quick trip. Better that you’re with us, then trying to sneak down on your own. You can run into the occasional unsavory character down that way.” 

“Cool.”

“I wonder what’s going on there?” Neville pointed out the window towards Flourish and Blotts, which seemed to have quite a crowd milling around it.

“Probably a book-signing. They usually have a bunch of them over the summer.” 

“I wonder who it is?”

“Gilderoy Lockhart.” Augusta sighed. “Which means the whole building will be chock full of silly girls mooning over the pompous twit. Maybe we should put off getting everyone’s books until next week when you’re here for your own book signing.” 

“I’d rather just get it out of the way. I can take the boys in, if you like.”

“Very well, I’ll go to the apothecary and get everyone’s potion supplies.”

“We can meet in the stationary shop afterwards, if you like.”

“Sounds like a workable plan.” Augusta agreed, prodding Harry to take his place on the second stool.  
 

 

Once all the boys had been fitted, and their robes were in the process of being made, the four guys headed next door to Flourish and Blotts while Augusta made her way further down the alley to the apothecary. They had to push their way into the throng that seemed to fill the store. There were staid matrons everywhere, all of them gussied up and staring longingly at the brightly-clad figure who was strutting around at the front of the store underneath a sign proclaiming GILDEROY LOCKHART: MAGICAL ME!

“He looks like a berk.”

“Too right he does.” Ron agreed while Neville snorted in amusement. The boys quickly shut up when all the ladies within earshot turned to glare at them fiercely.

“Let’s get our books and get out of here. These birds are crazy.” 

“Alright, what all do we need to get?”

“Standard book of spells, grade two…and seven Gilderoy Lockhart books.” Harry replied, his voice flat. “I guess this year’s teacher is a fan.” 

“You could say that, yeah.” Sirius snorted, giving a disdainful look to the man up front.

“Alright, spread out and start grabbing. Let’s see if we can get out of here without too much fuss….Adeline?”

“Huh?” the boys followed Sirius’ gaze and saw Adeline was in line, clutching a book to her bosom and watching Lockhart with rapt attention. Sirius’ face grew sour and he began making his way through the crowd to where she was standing.

“Great, looks like we’re on our own. I guess we’d best start grabbing.” Harry muttered. 

They spotted the Standard Book of spells nearby and each grabbed one. Gilderoy Lockhart’s books were all in pyramid-shaped displays arrayed around the dais Lockhart was strutting across. There was a whole crowd of women between them and the books. “Alright boys, into the breach we go.” Harry sighed before squeezing between two middle-aged women who were patting their hair and fixing their makeup.   
 

 

Harry had just reached the first display, and was feeling distinctly ruffled from pushing his way through the packed crowd, when he heard Lockhart exclaim “My word! Can it be?” He’d already decided the guy was a prancing pretty-boy, and was ignoring him. He continued to ignore him until the man himself appeared beside him, grabbed his arm in a steel-like grip and began hustling him towards the dais up front. 

“It is indeed! Harry Potter himself has come out for my book signing!” He announced grandly. Harry shot him a dirty look and turned to look longingly at the book displays, where Neville and Ron had just arrived. He’d been hoping to just grab his stuff and go. Lockhart threw a companionable arm around his shoulders and hissed out of the side of his mouth “Smile, damnit! A picture of the two of us will make the front page for sure!”.

“If you ever grab me like this again, I’ll gut you. Fair warning.” Harry hissed back, while giving a flat, half-hearted grimace to the cameras that were flashing in their faces. 

Lockhart let go as though he’d been burned, but he quickly rallied and moved to stand half in front of him and threw out his arms. “I’ve been waiting for the proper time to make a special announcement, and now that one of my future students is here, it seems the perfect time! I will be taking the post as this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts!” 

The crowd began clapping excitedly, and Lockhart beamed at all of them, his blindingly white teeth glinting every time the camera flashed. “In fact, in celebration of this, I will be gifting young Harry here with a complete set of my books—just my way of helping him along in any future dark-lord destroying endeavors, of course.” Lockhart joked, while picking up a stack of books and dropping them in Harry’s arms. Harry took the books happily enough—it meant he wouldn’t have to buy the damned things. His and Lockhart’s eyes met, and he could see the man was trying to make nice to avoid the threatened gutting. Harry looked back and tried to convey that he was willing to let him off this time, but he’d best not try anything of the sort in the future. Lockhart smiled and gave a very tiny nod. Good, they understood each other. A few more camera flashes went off, and Harry got off the dais as soon as he was able. 

“Lucky bastard.” Ron grumbled when he got back to them. 

“I had to get manhandled to get these things. I totally earned them.” Harry muttered back. “Have we got everything?”

“Yeah, looks like.”

“Let’s get out of here then. I hope our signing isn’t like this. I thought it sounded sort of fun until I saw all this.” 

“Yeah, tell me about it.” 

“Do you think we’ll be in the paper?”  
“Probably.”  
“Brilliant.” Ron said happily.  
   
“Oh, you all ready to go? Good. I want to get out of this madhouse.”

“A fat lot of help you were!” Harry growled at Sirius.

“What are you talking about?”

“AHA! There I was, being manhandled and molested and…and…having my innocence compromised, and you neither noticed nor cared! Thanks a lot!” Harry huffed, while giving Adeline a dirty look. He shot one last betrayed look at Sirius and marched off to pay for his Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, leaving two confused adults behind him.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“Lockhart drug him up on stage and dangled him like meat in front of a pack of hungry dogs so he could get on the front page. He doesn’t like that.”

“I dunno what he’s complaining about; he got a free set of books out of it.” 

Sirius and Adeline both sighed—it seemed they were constantly going one step forward, two steps back with regards to Harry.

“This is all your fault, you know; mooning after that prancing popinjay.”

“I’ve been a fan of his books for some time now, I’m not going to apologize for that. How was I to know any of this was going to happen?”

“Let’s just go. Augusta is supposed to meet us at the stationary place.”   
 

 

“Hermione!” Ron called once they’d gotten outside.

“Ron! Neville! Harry!".

Their group ran into Hermione coming out of the stationary store, accompanied by two people Harry had never seen before, and one he sort of vaguely remembered seeing around Hogwarts.

“What the bloody hell are you doing with him?”

The kid Harry vaguely recognized gave Ron a dirty look and rolled his eyes. 

“These friends of yours?” he then asked Hermione. “Good, you can finish up with them, I guess. I want to get to the bookstore before Lockhart leaves.” Hermione huffed as the boy hurried off. The couple, who Harry assumed were the boy’s parents, exchanged a look, before turning an apologetic smile on the rest of them. “Would you be able to see her home? We don’t want to impose.”

“Yeah, sure. We know where she lives. We can see her home.” Sirius assured them. The woman touched Hermione lightly on the shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, dear.” She told her before hurrying after her son.

“Who was that guy?” Neville wondered.

“Emmanuel Fawcett. He lives in Ottery St. Catchpole near Ron.” Hermione replied.

“How do you know him?

“The Diggorys introduced us.”

“Who are they?”

“Oh, who, Cedric Diggory? Those Diggorys?” Harry asked.

“Who’s Cedric Diggory?” Adeline wondered.

“Some Hufflepuff berk who’s got a thing for Cho.” Harry grumbled. 

Ron and Neville just nodded, while Hermione looked shocked. “What? Who? What’s this? Cho? Cho Chang you mean? That Ravenclaw?”

“Of course Cho Chang, who else would I be talking about?”

“You have a thing for her? Since when? How do I not know this?” She demanded.

“Because you’ve been busy wedging yourself into all the project corner projects and doing everyone’s research, so you’re the only one who knows anything?” Harry asked, his voice arch.

“Yeah, that’s got to be it. I mean, geez, everyone knows. It’s pretty obvious, if you ask me.” Ron snorted.

Neville just nodded agreement, while Sirius and Adeline tried not to laugh. Harry started blushing; he thought he’d managed to play it cool enough that it wasn’t real obvious. 

“That still doesn’t explain anything though.” Ron interjected. “Why were you hanging out with the Diggorys?” 

“I wasn’t hanging out with them, I called your house to see when all of you were going school shopping, and they were there with the twins when I did. They said they were already going to be taking the twins, so they called the Fawcetts and asked if they could take me. They said it was fine, but they weren’t leaving for an hour. They told me to meet them at the Leaky Cauldron. Which reminds me, I never did find out why there was a delay…what were they doing at their house that they didn’t want me to see?”

“They’re probably nudists.” Harry chirped.

“That’s absurd!” Hermione spluttered “And even if they were, why would it matter? If they’re nudists, they’re used to being naked in a world that looks down on it, that should hardly have been a concern.”

“Maybe they just didn’t want to hear you lecture them for an hour on the history of nudism, have you tell them they were doing it all wrong, wonder if they were trying too hard to hide the fact that they were really full of secrets and hiding things.”

Hermione’s scowl grew as Harry talked, and she finally huffed and stamped her foot. “ARRRAGGGHHH!” 

Ron’s face was slowly getting redder and redder. Sirius clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “So, next stop Knockturn Alley?”

“Hmph.” Hermione sniffed towards Harry. “I’ve been there. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as I thought it would be. Why, to hear Tom the barkeep go on, you’d think they were doing dark rituals and sacrificing babies down there. I didn’t see anything of the sort, just some old dusty shops, a few of which were rather smelly because of what they were selling.”

“You thought they were doing dark rituals and sacrificing babies and you went down there anyway? Why am I not surprised.” Harry muttered.

“Stop putting words in my mouth! That’s not what I said.”

“Yes it is, I just heard you. You’re raring to sacrifice a few babies for shits and giggles. For shame!" Harry sauntered off towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Hermione let out another frustrated scream and went stalking after him. The rest sighed, and followed after her.  
 

 

“So, this is Knockturn Alley, is it? It doesn’t look like much.”

“It has a much seedier reputation than is really warranted. I used to come down here when I was a kid. It’s just shops, much like Diagon Alley, but it’s mostly the shops everyone wants to keep more or less out of sight—taxidermists, leather making, fertilizer, pesticide, foreign oddities—shrunken heads and the like, a couple of second hand shops—clothing, books, antiques, a few shops that make custom work, and a few run by non-humans, a few non-human catering bars, and inns as well. Nothing really bad, not like you hear some folks go on about.” 

“There’s also a few non-human rights offices, and of course League Alley opens off of Knockturn if you follow it down far enough.”

“League Alley?”

“It’s where you find most of the law offices hereabouts, there’s also a historical society, the genealogical society, and a wizarding museum down there.”

“What? There’s more alleys? I didn’t even know about this one. Mum just hustled us past anytime we were here before. I thought maybe it was the employees’ back entrances or something.”

“Yes, there’s more alleys. There’s a whole meandering bunch of them hereabouts. People just say ‘Diagon Alley’ because Diagon serves as the gateway for the whole network.” 

“What else is there then?”

“Well, Financ Alley—that has the accountants and such. It branches off League Alley.”

“There’s Vertic Alley. That’s where the high end shops are— designer robes, expensive jewelry, wine, portrait studios, sculptors, musical instruments and the like.”

“Internation Alley—there’s oh, little shops that sell foreign imports—flying carpets, foreign newspapers, there used to be shops where you could get foreign language training too.” 

“Oh—Scientific Alley. There’s a lot of shops that sell muggle and muggle-inspired items.”

“Yeah? Anything else?”

“Black Alley. There’s factories down that way—manufacturing, book publishing and the like. My family owns that one. It’s not really pedestrian friendly; there’s not much to see down that way, and really the only folks who are usually down there are the employees, though there is a pub that serves food down that way. We own that too.” 

“Let’s take the whole tour then. I want to see everything.”

“So do I! I had no idea there was anything like that! I only went down Knockturn until it started getting smelly and then I turned around and went back to the Leaky Cauldron.”   
Hermione agreed. “Why wasn’t any of this mentioned in the orientation materials Professor McGongall gave us?” 

“Well, there’s not really anything down there for kids your age. I suppose they figured there wasn’t much point.”

“I don’t think so. Half the stuff they gave us was ‘stuff to do, places to go and stuff to know when you’re older.’ Very little of it was actually useful for starting Hogwarts.” Harry objected. 

 Sirius stifled another sigh; Harry already had his ‘there’s a conspiracy afoot!’ face on. Neville, upon spotting the look on Harry’s face, began glowering around at Knockturn alley suspiciously as well. Ron just looked perplexed, while Hermione simply looked outraged that someone was hiding information from her. 

He frowned in confusion as Harry suddenly started talking about repotting some begonias, while suddenly seeming to develop a series of nervous twitches. Neville glanced over at him, and began talking about how he too needed to repot some white roses, and he developed several nervous twitches as well. They were most of the way to Vertic Alley, the furthest alley in the bunch, bar Black Alley where all the manufacturing was done, when they finally stopped talking about gardening. It was a very strange conversation—far too many significant looks for them to have really been talking about flowers. All Sirius could figure was that they were speaking in code—Merlin knew Harry was paranoid enough to have developed a secret language so none of his ‘enemies’ could listen in on his conversations. 

One thing he could say about life with Harry—it was always an adventure.  
 

 

They spent the remainder of the morning and afternoon wandering the many alleys that branched off Knockturn and Diagon. There was plenty to see, and many places Harry wanted to come back to so he could take a more thorough look around—especially on Scientific Alley. Scientific Alley was really more of a cul-de-sac than a proper alley, and housed only a couple of small shops. They sold things like bicycles, appliances that had been charmed to run on magic rather than electricity, wizarding wireless sets. All that was nice if you were in the market for it, but what Harry really wanted to see was the cell phones and computers he’d spotted in one of the shops through the window. He’d have to come back another time and talk to the shopkeepers about them. He could think of a number of ways such things could be quite useful, if they worked right—especially as they were both things most wizards wouldn’t even consider looking for. Yes, he could think of a lot of ways a bit of muggle technology would be useful in the future.  
Internation Alley was another he’d like to come back to—foreign newspapers, foreign journals of magic, books written in foreign languages, training in foreign languages and imports from around the world. It too was more of a cul-de-sac than a proper alley, but there was still lots to see even so.  
   
The high end shops in Vertic Alley were neat, and he was happy to know where one could get wizard portraits done—he had always wondered, as he hadn’t seen any shops that did them in Diagon Alley when he’d been there school shopping last year. He’d have to mention the place to Dean; he’d probably love to get a job in such a place one summer so he could learn their craft, same with the sculpture studio. Some of the clothes were pretty neat too. He thought he might suggest coming by this way the next time he needed dress robes—they had a lot more to offer than Madame Malkins, which was more of a general all-purpose clothing shop. 

Financ Alley wasn’t too interesting, unless one was looking for an accountant, same with League Alley—though the wizarding history museum was sort of interesting. A lot of the displays were of things covered in History of Magic—displays of various ancient battles, copies of extremely old treaties that were no longer in effect, as the nations that signed it were no longer around, old weapons and armor, old maps, a Viking ship, remnants from Avalon, Atlantis and Camelot. There was even a very old tapestry showing the four founders of Hogwarts, worn and faded with age.   
   
They eventually made their way back to narrow, shadowed Knockturn Alley, with its dusty shops and noxious smells. Harry wondered who had laid out the order of the alleys, as it made little sense to him to have Knocturn act as the gateway for everything other than Diagon. Most of the other alleys would have been better served to open off Diagon. Knockturn and Black Alley should have been the furthest and least accessible; instead one had to traverse an area filled with leathermaking, taxidermy and pesticide before one could get to the rest. It made no sense to him, but then wizards were often rather baffling, he’d found.  
   
At last, they were back near Diagon Alley.

“I never actually got any of my books. I should probably do that before I leave, or my parents will wonder just what I was doing all day.” 

“We never did stop at the stationary place either.”

“Yes, we did travel a bit further afield than I was really planning to.”

“Can we go into one of the shops before we leave? We mostly just looked in windows the whole way.”

“Sure, we can duck into Borgin and Burkes for a minute if you’d like.”

“I’m going to Flourish and Blotts.” Hermione objected.

“Go ahead. We can meet all of you.”

“Fortescue’s?” Augusta asked.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. We won’t be long.” 

Augusta shooed Ron, Neville and Hermione ahead of her. Adeline looked at Sirius, then at Harry before giving Sirius a wry smile, squeezing his hand and following Hermione, who was stalking ahead of the boys, eager to get her books.

Sirius sighed, watching her go, before shaking off his melancholy and escorting Harry into the pawn shop/antique shop that stood at the divide between Knockturn and Diagon Alleys.   
 

 

Bells over the door rang as the door opened. Harry’s first impression of Borgin and Burkes was that it was crowded, and dark, and very dirty. The outer edges of the shop seemed swathed in shadows—though it was to be expected, considering how dirty the windows were. There seemed to be a little bit of everything piled around the room in haphazard jumbles. If there was any sort of organization, Harry couldn’t have told you what it was. Sirius looked around, grunted, and began wandering, looking around without much interest. Harry shrugged and followed suit, heading in the opposite direction. 

He opened the door on a large, ornate cabinet that stood nearby in idle curiosity, and was about to close it just as quickly when the interior proved to be simply a large, empty space. Halfway to closing the door, he hesitated. He could feel Hogwarts.  
   
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he pushed his senses outward, wondering at what he’d felt for just a moment. It was faint, but he could definitely feel Hogwarts seeping out of the back of the cabinet.

“Can I help you good gentlemen?” A greasy man who had just come out of the back asked.

“What can you tell me about this cabinet?” Harry asked curiously, as he shut the door. He didn’t want to show too much interest.

“Oh, yes a lovely piece, that one. A fine antique. There used to be a young fellow, worked for me. He acquired that. It’s a steal for 1500 galleons.”

“1500? Seems rather steep to me. What’s it do?”

“It…well, you stick stuff in it and shut the door, it disappears. Sometimes it comes back.”

“Doesn’t seem terribly useful. It would make it hard to retrieve things you wanted to keep—and equally hard to get rid of things you didn’t want.”

“They don’t make them like this anymore.”

“There’s usually a reason for that.” 

“It’s a rare, one of a kind item.”

“How long have you had it?”

“A little while. Like I said, the shop boy acquired it. He had a real gift for finding gems like this. It’s a shame. He died a while back. Blew up. Took my partner out with him.”

Harry blinked slowly and turned to look at the greasy man.

“Was his name Tom Riddle, by any chance?”

Mr. Borgin twitched.

“How do you know that?”

“I know lots of things Mr…”

“Borgin. I’m Borgin. Burke was my partner.”

“So you’ve had this rare, one of a kind item for…about 50 years now, and still haven’t found a buyer? Definitely overpriced.”

Borgin twitched again and looked at the cabinet thoughtfully.

“Blimey…has it really been that long?” 

“I’ll give you a 150 for it.”

“What? I told you, 1500!”

“You’ve had it here, taking up floor space, collecting dust, for 50 years. It’s a nice cabinet, but not particularly useful. I, however, like to tinker. I’m willing to see if I can make something useful out of it…but not for 1500. Look at it this way—at least you’d be getting something for it. 150 galleons is nothing to sneeze at.” 

Borgin shook his head stubbornly. “I’d be losing money, letting a fine cabinet like this go for so little.” 

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “Your loss.” 

Sirius, who had been watching the exchange curiously, stepped forward. “You ready to go, pup?”

“Yes, I think I’ve seen all I need to see.”

“I’ll let you have it for 1000!” Borgin offered.

“I’ve already told you the price I’m willing to pay, Mr. Borgin. Frankly, I’d be doing you a favor, taking it off your hands for 100 galleons.”

“You said 150!”

“You’re trying to get me to take a possibly malfunctioning cabinet that’s been collecting dust for 50 years off your hands for a enough galleons to feed a large family for a year.”

“You’re not supposed to go down!”

“I did say it was your loss.” Harry pointed out.

Borgin glowered at Harry, then pulled a stained book from beneath the counter and flipped through it, looking something up. He stared at whatever was written and tapped his fingers on the page while he considered. Finally, he looked up. “I’ll let you have it for 125.” He offered again.

“Done.” Harry agreed. “Oddment.”

The house elf popped up between Harry and Sirius. “Yes?”

“See the cabinet there? Take it to my room, would you?” 

Oddment nodded and snapped his fingers. He and the cabinet both disappeared. 

Harry stepped towards the counter and drew his vault key, which he pressed to the designated spot on the bill of sale once Borgin filled it out. 

“Nice doing business with you, Mr. Borgin.”

Borgin looked at the amount on the bill of sale and sighed mournfully. “You too, Mr. Potter.” He agreed half-heartedly. 

Sirius put a hand on his shoulder, nodded to Borgin and steered Harry from the shop. 

 

Sirius didn’t bother asking Harry what the deal with the cabinet was; he knew by now that he’d likely only spill his guts once they were out of sight and in a secure location. He could wait; he didn’t seem upset or agitated. They stopped in the stationary store and refilled Harry’s school supplies, and then met the others at Fortean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Shoppe for a snack, before heading back to Madame Malkin's to pick up their robes. 

Augusta left them after that—Neville was going to stay with them for the remainder of the summer—taking Neville’s supplies with her. He’d be spending the last night of summer at home after the Finch-Fletchley party, and head to Hogwarts from there. Sirius popped Hermione back home along with her purchases, while Adeline kept an eye on the boys, and then they returned to Grimmauld Place.   
   
Sirius didn’t get a chance to corner Harry about the cabinet until that evening, after Ron and Neville had gone to bed.

“I was wondering how long you were going to hold out.”

“Longer than I wanted to. Spill.”

“It’s a gateway to Hogwarts, I think.” 

“A gateway?”

“Yep. I could feel Hogwarts when I opened it. I think Tom Riddle made it so he’d always have a way back to the castle. I inherited everything else from him, I might have gotten this as well. I think he made it so only he could use it to travel freely between them, that’s why stuff vanishes and reappears randomly. I’ll have to poke at it a bit to be sure. It makes sense though. He was heir of Slytherin; if he wanted to make a hole in the wards to give himself a private entrance to the castle, I have a feeling he would have been able to do just that without too much trouble. It’s best gotten out of that shop. Had anyone discovered what it was, it could have spelt trouble in the future; anyone could have waltzed right into the heart of Hogwarts, probably without anyone being the wiser. I’ll have to find the other end of the corridor when I go back to school. It probably doesn’t look like this one, or someone might have realized sooner. Heh, I could stop by to visit during the school year.” Harry snickered.

“Probably not a good idea, unless it’s an emergency. I don’t think anyone would look too kindly on you having a personal gateway into the heart of Hogwarts.” 

“True. Pity.” Harry agreed. “Although, since you’re here to keep an eye on things, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try it out just once, and see if I’m even right about it being a gateway. If it works, I’ll peek out and come right back. If five minutes pass and I don’t return, you’ll all have to figure out how to rescue me.” 

Sirius shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, alright.” 

Harry made to step through, then reconsidered and went to go fetch his invisibility cloak. He’d never used the thing; it had been safely tucked away since he’d gotten it. Now seemed as good a time as any to give it a test drive.  
Sirius smiled when he saw the cloak, looking a bit nostalgic for a moment.

“Wish me luck.”   
“Luck.” 

Harry climbed into the cabinet and shut the door.  
 

Nothing seemed to be happening. Feeling rather disappointed that he’d been so wrong, he opened the door to step back out, and then froze when he realized he wasn’t looking out at his room, but on a familiar stone hallway. He was in the hallway near McGonagall’s office, and the DADA classroom. The girls’ bathroom he and Neville had gone to fetch Hermione from wasn’t too far away either. He supposed he was lucky the cabinet was functional and unharmed; he was also right near where the troll had rampaged during the Halloween feast. It was a good spot for it; there weren’t any portraits down this hallway, for some reason, even though everywhere else they seemed to cover every available surface. 

_“I wonder if Tom Riddle had something to do with that? It would have been somewhat necessary to keep away portraits in order to keep his comings and goings a secret. I wonder why this corridor though? It’s a good way from the library, though there is a come and go room entrance nearby. Maybe that’s all he wanted? The come and go room? He could have pilfered stuff from there like I did—it would certainly explain why he had a knack for finding valuable antiques for the shop. I’ll have to investigate this corridor more thoroughly, and see if there’s anything else nearby that I’ve missed—this corridor does seem to be very busy.”_  
   
He realized he’d been standing there in the open cabinet for a few minutes, and cursed, as Sirius was probably beginning to panic, convinced he was stuck somewhere in limbo. He hurried shut the door and then opened it again, to find Sirius’ relieved face on the other side.

“What took you so long? Did something happen? Did you get stuck?”

“No, everything’s fine. Sorry I took so long; I was just wondering at the location, and whether there was any significance to it.”

“Where was it?”

“Second floor corridor, near the DADA classroom.”

“If these things have been around as long as you think, it might not have always been in that spot. The castle rearranges itself daily—imagine how much it’s moved around in fifty years.”

“That’s true, I suppose. I wonder if I should move the other cabinet elsewhere until I check it out thoroughly. I don’t want any old person able to waltz in to Hogwarts—but I don’t want the staff or any of the students wandering into my room either.” 

“It’s probably not a bad idea, though I don’t think you need to worry. People used to get thrown in that thing all the time, and no one ever ended up in Borgin and Burkes; they’d just reappear back in Hogwarts after a bit.” 

“Good to know. It makes me feel a bit better about having this thing here.”   
   
 

 

“Boys! Come on! Time to get to the book signing!” 

“We’re coming, we’re coming.”

Harry ran a finger around his collar, trying to loosen it a bit, and rolled his shoulders to settle his robes more comfortably, while Neville smoothed his hair and fidgeted nervously.  
One after another they stepped into the floo and stepped out in the Leaky Cauldron, and then into Diagon Alley to head for the book store.

“Are they all here for us?” Neville gasped. The crowd wasn’t anything compared to the crowd that had gathered for Lockhart, but it was still more than any of them had been expecting.

“Excellent. If all these people buy a copy and tell their friends about it, you all might actually end up making a profit—it won’t be a huge amount, after it’s split eight ways, but it’ll be something at least.” 

Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender, and Hermione were there already, along with their parents, and Parvati’s twin sister, Padma. 

The manager, seeing that most of them had arrived chivvied them all towards the table that had been set up, complete with eight seats, at the far end of the store, under a banner that said “The Marauders”—the title the publishing house had given their book, which they had simply called ‘the pirate book’. It had been Sirius’ idea, naturally. The cover was dark blue, with one of Dean’s drawings taking up the top half of the page, with the title in simple gold letters underneath. The picture showed the deck of the ship, and their ‘crew’—all of them—dressed as pirates, and looking into the distance. A very tiny ship shaped like a snake could be seen in the background, flying high above their more usual ship. It was the ‘Slithering Air Ship’, belonging to the Dread Warlord and his son, Tom. At sea level, in the distance, was a shoreline, and on it a tower—The Citadel of Order. It was a good choice for the cover as it showed the three main groups the action centered around.  
   
Ron appeared just as the signing was about to begin, which made the shop clerk who’d been about to announce them stop and then have to start over. Mr. Weasley waved to all of them and then hurried out, looking tired and stressed.

“What was with your dad?” Harry whispered curiously.

“I’ll tell you later.” Ron promised, sounding a bit tired and stressed himself. “I can’t believe all these people came out to see us.”

Harry looked out into the crowd and stifled a sigh; from what he could see, most of the crowd was focused on him and him alone—the other seven kids might as well have not been there. He needed to do something before the stupid people in the crowd all rushed him and ignored everyone. Even if it wasn’t his fault, he doubted the others would see it that way. He didn’t want everyone’s big day ruined just because the wizarding world stupidly worshipped him for some reason.   
After the shop clerk announced them all, Harry decided to act. 

“Why don’t we start things off with a bit of a Q and A? Does anyone have any questions for us?”  
   
“Oh! Mr. Potter…I really love the artwork! Where did you learn to be such an excellent artist?”

“Well, thank you, but you’re really complimenting the wrong person. While we all made contributions to the art in the book, the main artist was Dean here. In fact, Dean, why don’t you tell these nice people a bit about the artistic process?” 

Dean gulped, looked at the crowd, who had turned from Harry to look at Dean curiously, and gave them a sickly smile. “Uh…well…I’ve been drawing since I was real little…” 

Once he got Dean talking, it took very little effort to keep things going, and allowing everyone a chance to shine for a bit. Parvati and Lavender had a chance to talk about their clothing and scene designs, Seamus had a chance to brag on his storytelling skills. Neville spoke with quiet authority about his contributions to realistic landscaping in the scenes, and how it contributed to the flow of the story in several key places. Hermione piped up several times to brag about how her editing job is what made the book a book, not just a random stack of pictures and text. Ron got a chance to speak up about the running gags that peppered the book—his contribution to the whole.

Through the whole interview and the signing itself, Harry was content to let the others shine; he was quite famous enough already, he didn’t really need any more. He could tell the audience was impressed with how they all handled themselves—in fact, he was pretty sure their performance sold a few extra books. Shoppers who came in while they were talking gravitated to the back of the store to see what was going on. After listening for a bit, most of them grabbed one of the books and flipped through it. From what he could see, most of them actually purchased a copy.   
   
All of them—kids and parents/guardians—gathered at the Leaky Cauldron afterwards for a small celebratory dinner.

“Things went well, don’t you think?” Adeline commented. Harry was slowly becoming resigned to the idea that she seemed to be around to stay. 

“Yeah, it did. I think I might have created a monster though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at Ron.” Harry indicated with a tilt of his head. Sirius and she both turned to look, and found Ron preening while he spoke to Tom the bartender.  
 __  
“Yeah, there’s supposed to be a story in the papers tomorrow—probably not the front page, but what can you do?”  
“Excuse me, young man, I couldn’t help but overhear…did you say you were going to be in the papers tomorrow? What did you do?”  
“I’m a published author. I actually just came from my book signing at Flourish and Blotts just about an hour ago, actually.”  
“A published author? At your age! Goodness! What’s your book called, if you don’t mind me asking?”  
  
Sirius and Adeline shook their heads and laughed.

“See what I mean? He’s been chatting people up and mentioning his novel every other sentence. He also keeps looking around to see if anyone else wants to take a picture of him. He’s going to be strutting worse than Gilderoy Lockhart by the time we get to school.” 

“That jerk.” Sirius huffed. Adeline whapped him in the arm and gave him a reproving look.

“I’d best bring Ron back to earth before he floats away because his head’s gotten so big. Hey, Ron!”  
 

Ron glanced over, obviously not wanting to interrupt his bragging, but Harry glared at him until he eventually sighed and trudged over.

“What? I was kinda busy.”

“You said you were going to tell us what was up with your dad earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah. I had almost managed to forget.” Ron sighed, before taking a seat. “You know how dad was saying yesterday that he was going to get a portkey?”

“Yeah. So where’s Percy been, anyway?”

“Dunno. It wasn’t him that showed up, it was Oliver Wood.”

“Oliver? He was with Oliver? That’s odd…I thought they hadn’t been getting on well since he tried killing Percy that day.” 

Adeline choked and looked at the boys in horror. Sirius filled her in on the quidditch riots that had started in Hogsmeade, and what he’d heard about the events that led up to it.

“They hadn’t—Percy wasn’t too forgiving about the whole thing. He apparently used the whole portkey thing to get back at him. He somehow figured out that there was a portkey. He sent a letter to Oliver saying he was a recruiter for Puddlemere United and to meet him in some park or something. When Oliver showed up he confunded him, gave him red hair and freckles and then handed him the portkey. We were all in the kitchen waiting for him…and when we saw the red hair and freckles…we all started hexing him. He’s been gone for two weeks without a word!” Ron defended himself. “Mum started shrieking and snatched all our wands away, and then rushed over to fix Percy…that’s when we discovered it wasn’t even him.” 

Ron sighed mournfully and his shoulders slumped. 

“It turns out you’re not allowed to use a portkey to ambush someone. Dad got fined. Oliver’s parents went to the aurors after he told them what happened. I dunno what he was complaining about; he didn’t end up in the hospital for two weeks like mum did.” He sighed again. “Mum still has all our wands. She says we’ll be lucky if she lets us have them for Hogwarts. She’s real upset. She’s convinced Percy’s never coming home because we drove him away or something. Dad’s pissed too. He said he can’t afford any more controvery, that he’s lucky he just got fined because of the portkey thing. He said one more screw up and he might not have a job anymore. We didn’t dare bring up that his vendetta against Lucius Malfoy is the reason he’s on thin ice in the first place—dad angry is kinda scary, actually. It’s not something you really see that often.” 

They all noticed at the same time that the common room of the pub had gotten rather quiet. Ron blanched when he realized that all the folks he’d been chatting up earlier were now listening in unabashedly, and all of them looked rather gleeful over his troubled family life. 

Harry gave him a sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the downside of being famous, mate.” He whispered.   
 

   
“Hey, Barty.”

“Hey, kid. How’d your book signing go?”

“It went well, I think. We apparently sold most of the books Flourish and Blotts had in stock, which I think is a good sign. If people actually like it, word of mouth should do the rest—that’s what we’re hoping, anyway.”

He and Neville wandered off, and the adults all settled around Barty in the parlor.

“Is it a good book?” Barty wondered. “Do you think you’re going to sell anymore after today?”

“I’m sure of it. They might be kids, but they can tell an engrossing story. I think it will actually be a big seller. Of course, even if it is, with there being eight authors on the thing, none of them is getting rich off of it…of course, they’re only twelve, so I suppose they’ll be relatively rich for twelve year olds.” Sirius mused. 

I can’t believe all that bit with the Weasleys…why do they keep trying to hex that poor boy? I have to say, if that’s the sort of treatment he normally receives, I can understand why he ran away.” Adeline commented.

“What’s this?” Barty wondered.

Sirius filled him in on the latest drama at the Weasley house—Molly out of the hospital, Oliver Wood nearly put in.

“I hope the boy is alright, wherever he’s run off to.” Adeline added. 

“He’s fine, actually.” Barty admitted.

“You’ve heard from him?”

“Yeah…I wrote to him after he first disappeared, just to make sure he was okay. He’s been living at Oxford University—staying in one of the dormitories that are empty for the summer. His little girlfriend’s father is a professor there, so she knows her way around the place. He’s been going to parties and making money in an underground fighting tournament. He said after spending so many years getting hexed and pranked by his siblings, he’s got a high tolerance for abuse. He’s won a few times.” 

“You’ve known that all this time, and you never said anything?” Sirius demanded.

“You never asked.”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

“So…he’s been beating up muggles since he’s been gone? I’m sure that will go over well with his family, especially with his father being concerned over his job.” Remus interjected.

“If he was just going around beating up muggles it would be one thing. He’s going into a locked cage and fighting, which is completely different.” Barty objected. “You have to face everyone and keep winning each match, one after another, to win the pot. It would be more truthful to say he’s getting whaled on by a multitude of muggles each night and manages to stay conscious long enough to win the bout. Like I said, it’s completely different.” 

“What kind of money are we talking about here?” Remus asked casually.

Sirius grinned. “That’s the spirit, Moony!”

“I don’t believe you two!” Adeline huffed.

“Ah, come on! A little walk on the wild side never hurt anyone….well, if he does this, it will hurt Remus. We’ll just be watching.”

“Thanks for your support, Padfoot.”  
“Anytime.”   
 

 

   
“Are you sure we should be doing this? Won’t we get in trouble?”

“It’s okay. I told the house elves we were leaving. They didn’t stop us, so we have implicit permission…from a certain point of view. Besides…if they want us back right quick, they can just send the house elves after us.”

“You’re right. So…why didn’t we take the Knight Bus?”

“One, because I don’t like it, and two, because this gives us a perfect opportunity to have an impromptu muggle studies lesson.”

“Oh, okay. So, what’s first?”

“Well…um, okay, look there. It’s a telephone booth. It’s pretty much a muggle version of a floo. There are some differences—on the one hand, the wizard floo system is somewhat superior, because you can see the person you’re talking to, and you can travel through it and send stuff through it. The muggle system is superior in that you can talk to pretty much anyone anywhere in the world instantly, so long as both parties have a telephone and you have a number to reach the person by.” 

“How does that work, anyway?”

“I don’t know or understand the exact details of how the system works overall, but for our purposes, you don’t really need to. I can show you how to make a call though.”

“Cool. Who are we going to call?”

“Uh…well, let’s take a look in the book, and we’ll find someone.”   
 

 

Harry gave Neville a crash course in telephone use; showing him how to use the telephone book to find people and businesses, how to use directory assistance, and then had him make a few calls—to Justin, to Dean, and to Seamus. Neville did fine, though he did have trouble believing they could hear him properly through the mouthpiece, even though they were far away, and had to keep being reminded to speak in a normal tone of voice.   
After the third phone call, Neville was feeling like quite the pro, so Harry had him make one more call.

“What’s a taxi, anyway?”

“It’s the muggle version of the Knight Bus, I suppose. You basically hire a car to take you to a specific location and pay them for it. Muggle buses don’t come on command, or take you to a specific location the way a cab does. A muggle bus or train has a specific route it travels and makes stops along to pick up or let off people. If you want to go somewhere, you have to look at the map and see which bus or train goes where you want to go. Sometimes, if you’re traveling a distance, you might have to take a couple different ones to get you close to where you want to end up, and you have to match it against a schedule, so you know when to be at the stops.”

“It sounds complicated.”

“It’s not, really, not once you know what you’re doing.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“No, you’ll see. I’ll have you traveling the rails like you were born to it in no time. Oh, that’s probably our cab. I’ve never ridden in one before, though I have ridden in my uncle’s car a few times. It should be much nicer than the Knight bus, at any rate.”   
   
The cab driver was a bit suspicious of two boys their age traveling alone by cab through London, but they gave him a destination, and had money to pay him, so he didn’t ask too many questions.   
Harry directed the man to drop them off at the corner nearest the Leaky Cauldron, and they made their way from there, vanishing into the pub through a break in the sidewalk traffic.   
 

“HARRY POTTER!”

Harry only just kept himself from flinching when his name was loudly called out the moment he stepped foot in the pub. He turned to see who was hailing him, and saw a little old man with a purple top hat. It was the same man who had tried drawing attention to him the first time he’d come to the Leaky Cauldron. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Harry snapped back. 

He was a bit irritated; the stupid old man had drawn every eye to him, and now several of the people were gaping at him and whispering together.  
The little old man—Daedelus Diggle, he was sure his name was-- made what Harry thought was a rather ostentatious show of looking around. 

“Surely….surely you’re not here alone?”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Neville grumbled.

“Oh, this will never do. I don’t know what the Ministry was thinking, allowing that Sirius Black to take custody of you.”

“Excuse me? I fail to see what business it is of yours. I don’t even know you! Come on, Neville.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to continue roaming about unsupervised.” 

“I suggest you mind your own business, mister.” Harry said over his shoulder as he and Neville started towards the gateway to Diagon Alley.

Daedelus Diggle drew his wand, and pointed it at the boys’ backs. He was suddenly blasted back and went stumbling into a table. 

Neville squeaked and jumped, and the people elsewhere in the pub jumped from their seats in a panic, and all of them began talking at once. Tom the barkeep tried to restore order before anything got further out of hand.

“What happened?” Neville wondered. “Who hexed that guy?”

“Oddment would be my guess. He probably followed us, either that, or he told Sirius we were gone and he asked him to follow us. I don’t know which.” Harry explained.

Everyone was still agitated when the floo flared and Sirius came stumbling out looking panicked. “HARRY!”

“I’m right here, Sirius.”

“Are you alright? The elves said someone was trying to kidnap you!”

“I’m fine. Oddment took care of it.” Harry assured him, while pointing to where Daedelus was peeling himself off the table he’d crashed into, covered in ale and beef stew.

“DIGGLE!” Sirius exclaimed, sounding bewildered. “Daedelus Diggle was trying to kidnap you?”

“Yeah, he thinks you’re an unfit parent, so he was going to hex us in the back and take us somewhere against our wills. I’ll let you handle this. Me and Neville are going to the alley.”

“Yeah, have fun.” Sirius muttered distractedly. 

Harry had to prod Neville to get him moving, as he was staring, wide-eyed and aghast at the commotion in the pub. Their last sight before vanishing into the alley was of a very unhappy Sirius cracking his knuckles and wading through the chattering people to have a ‘little talk’ with Diggle about why one did not try to kidnap his godson.   
 

 

“That was weird.” Neville commented once they were safely on their way to the more distant alleys. “Who was that guy anyway? And what made him think he had any right to just hex you in the back and take you somewhere?”

“I dunno. I hope Sirius punches him right in the nose though.”

“Yeah. All I can say is he’s gonna regret all this once my gran gets wind of it.”

Harry started snickering. “Oh, man, I wish I could see the look on his face when he spots your gran bearing down on him.”

Neville cracked a small smile as well. “Me too.”   
   
 

 

The boys at last arrived at Internation Alley, their first destination. 

“Ready to become multi-lingual, Nev?”

“Yeah, I guess. It should make doing herbology research on plants not native to Britain easier.”

“If we ever travel, it will come in handy then too. We can also use it to enhance our code language. What we’ve got so far works, but it is rather limited. Also, I think Sirius realized what we were doing.”

“If we keep lapsing into other languages, that’ll be pretty obvious too.”

“Yeah…it’s a problem, isn’t it? I still think it’s worth doing.” 

“Let’s go then. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Should be. Barty’s dad apparently spoke 200 languages. We’re not going to get nearly so many, so it should be fine.” 

Neville nodded and followed as Harry opened the door to the shop.

“Why hello.” The elderly man behind the counter greeted them. He had been reading the paper before they came in. “It’s not often we get kids your age in here. Are you lost?”

“No, we’re here to learn foreign languages.” 

“Oh, well, in that case you’ve come to the right place. Did you have a particular language in mind?”

“French, German, Italian, Spanish, Latin, Greek, Russian and Mandarin for me. The same for Neville.” 

“Have you had this done before?”

“No, this is both our first time. Hey, does this help you read the language too or just speak it?”

“It helps considerably in mastering the written language, but you have to work at it some. We actually offer a service to help facilitate the process.” The man answered, plucking a pamphlet from the counter and handing it over as well. “Follow me, if you would.”

He motioned them to follow him, and led them to a room in the back. There was a chaise lounge in the room, with a helmet looking thing on a moveable arm attached to the top of it. 

“Who will be going first?”

Neville looked at the helmet and then at Harry; it was obvious he was nervous.

“I will” Harry answered, handing Neville the pamphlet. 

“Just make yourself comfortable, the chair will adjust somewhat to fit you.   
Harry laid on the thing and squirmed a bit when it began shrinking beneath him. When it stopped, the man moved the helmet-thing into place and strapped it to his head. The crystals he’d taken from out front were arrayed on the table beside him.

“Just relax. Here, drink this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s my own patented recipe. It keeps you calm and relaxed and makes your mind briefly more open to outside stimuli. It helps the languages settle more fimly. It’s perfectly safe. I’ve been doing this for a number of decades now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry agreed. The guy seemed sincere enough. He drank down the vial and grimaced slightly at the taste, which was reminiscent of rhubarb and cabbage with a hint of mint. It wasn’t the worst potion he’d ever tasted, but neither was it particularly appetizing.  
 

Harry could feel the effects of the mixture almost immediately. He sank bonelessly into the chair beneath him, and his mind simultaneously sharpened. He was suddenly aware of all sorts of things he hadn’t really taken much note of—sounds, smells and textures all around him that hadn’t been important enough to focus on before. The man put one of the crystals into the top of the helmet and turned a dial. There was a sharp pain in Harry’s head and the world went fuzzy for a moment, but it faded just as quickly. He repeated the process again and again until all the crystals he’d gathered for Harry were spent.   
When the last crystal had been used, he turned the dial back, unstrapped Harry from the helmet thing, and handed him another potion, which Harry drank down with another grimace—it was a sort of chalky mint with a hint of grape. The boneless feeling he’d had vanished, as did the hyperawareness and the lingering hint of a headache. Once he was sure he would be steady on his feet, he rose and stretched. 

“Your turn, Nev. No worries.” 

Neville handed back the pamphlet, and straightened his shoulders bravely, before taking his turn in the contraption.   
The process was just as streamlined, and just as swiftly completed. Harry flipped through the pamphlet while he was waiting.   
   
The pamphlet detailed the service options offered to help facilitate reading in your newly acquired languages. There were pensieve memories you could purchase that had a series of classroom lessons on reading and writing, or you could opt for a talking dictionary that would pronounce the word and explain its meaning, so you would learn to connect the written form with the spoken. There was also a talking tablet you could purchase that would spell check and critique your attempts to write in your new language.   
Harry had a pensieve among his parents’ things—Sirius and Bathilda had to explain what it was and what it was for; it just looked like a big stone bowl with runes around the rim.   
None of the stuff was particularly expensive, so Harry figured he’d get all three. He and Neville could take turns with the things.   
There was an order form on the back, so Harry filled it out while Neville was finishing up.   
   
They were taken back up front to pay—Neville insisted on paying for his own languages with his birthday money. Harry bought one each of the supplementary equipment, and was given a tablet that looked like slate with a face on top of it, and an attached stylus, a talking, multi-language dictionary, and a box full of pensieve memories. He packed his new stuff away and they both shook hands with the man, who they finally learned was named Robert Jones—Bob to his friends. They stepped back outside and Harry started towards Scientific Alley. 

“Come on, Nev. We’ve still got a few stops to make.”   
   
Harry wasted no time steering them towards the shop where he’d seen the cell phones and computers the day before. A bell rang as the door opened, and the two guys inside turned to look hopefully at the door. Their faces fell a bit when they saw it was two kids.

“Oh…hello. Are you lost?”

“No, we’re here to look around.” 

“Feel free. Everything’s half-price.” 

“Oh?”

“Going out of business sale.” The guy on the left replied, while gesturing towards a sign up on the wall.

“Why are you going out of business?”

“Can’t afford to stay in business anymore. You’re the first customer we’ve had in months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Buisness has never really picked up since we’ve opened this place. We’d been hopeful, when we saw there was a small alley dedicated to mugglish stuff, but it’s usually pretty dead around here.” The guy on the right sighed. 

He shook himself and pasted a friendly smile on his face. “So, what were you looking for, exactly?”

“I peeked through your window a couple of days ago and thought I saw computers and cell phones.”

The guy grinned with quiet pride. 

“Yeah, real masterpieces too. I think we just came along at the wrong time. These things have only just started catching on in the muggle world; the wizarding world is just not ready for them.” He explained. “We’ve got a friend who works for a computer company. This beauty here is state of the art for both the muggle and wizarding world. We’ve managed to make it run on magic, no batteries or electricity needed, and we’ve added a few programs specifically for magic users, though they probably wouldn’t be of much interest to ether of you.”

“Try us.”

“Well, we have a program that helps you with arithimancy. Neither of you look old enough to have even started that class. The early stuff is easy enough to do with a pencil and paper. It’s not really until NEWT and post-NEWT level that a thing like this would really be necessary. We’ve also got a runic simulator. Now, obviously, since magic is involved, you might eventually run across something that works fine in simulation, but doesn’t work out quite the same in the real world, but so far, in all the simulations we’ve run, it all worked just as expected—I just figure it’s fair to warn you to always keep that in mind. Again, you probably haven’t started runes yet, so it might not be something of great interest to you. Something that might be of more interest is the searchable databases we’ve added—herbology, magical creatures, potions…all the classes at Hogwarts really. Now, obviously none of them are all-inclusive, but we think we’ve done a pretty thorough job of including all the most common stuff. There is a function that will allow you to add entries to your own database, if you so choose. We use one of these things ourselves, and I have to say it does help a great deal when you want to just check something real quick, and don’t want to end up doing an exhaustive library search for the information. That’s kind of it for the magic-related functions. The rest is the usual muggle features—word processor, spreadsheet, picture editor, also a touch-typing tutor. You’ll learn to appreciate that one. It’s also set up for internet access. If you want that, you have to tell us so we can set it up for you. We’ve got a friend that works for an online service and he helped us set up a server to act as a gateway for any of our magical computers to access the internet through.”  
   
Throughout the whole presentation, Neville stared at the computer with wide-eyed astonishment. He’d never really thought much about the sorts of things muggles could do. It was something of a shock to learn that muggles had set up a network that allowed them to communicate with one another world-wide, by talking or by sending text through one of these machines. He was completely blown away. 

“We’ve only got a couple of them—five to be exact. We figured there wouldn’t be a huge demand, but apparently there wasn’t even a small demand.”

“Have you tried marketing them to the goblins at Gringott’s? They interface with muggle banks, so they have to have some way to do it. If you can make a good enough pitch, they might buy some.”

The two guys exchanged glances and nodded slowly.

“It’s certainly worth thinking about. It isn’t like we’ve much to lose, after all. We’re already going out of business.” 

“How about you tell me about the cell phone?”

The guy on the left picked up one of the phones and held it out so they could see it. 

“We’ve got a couple of friends that work with the phone company. They helped us make an interface that rides on the existing phone system. Like the computer, it runs on magic, so no worries about batteries.”

“How about phone bills?”

“None of those either.” The guy grinned. “It’s pretty much unlimited calls day or night and no bills. I should tell you that when you stepped through the door, you agreed to keep these little facts quiet and not bring them to any sort of official notice. You never know when someone will get a bee in their bonnet about a thing just because muggles are involved. I don’t intend to start paying a phone bill just because some busy body can’t keep their opinions to themselves.”

“I can totally agree with that. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t sold a bunch of these.”

“Yeah, us too. We thought these at least would go like hotcakes.” 

“May I?” Harry asked, holding out a hand for the phone. “I might be able to rustle you up some business.” 

The guy pursed his lips then shrugged and handed it over. “Knock yourself out.”

Harry dug out the telephone number list they’d made earlier and dialed a number. 

“Hello Mrs. Finch-Fletchley, this is Harry. Could I speak to Justin perchance? Thank you, I’ll wait.” 

Harry leaned against the counter and began tapping his fingers while he waited. 

“Hey, Justin. I’m good, how’ve you been? Yeah, sort of. I’m actually in a shop in Scientific Alley. That’s its name. It’s off Knockturn Alley, which is off Diagon. I never heard of it either till the other day. Me, Neville, Ron and Hermione went exploring when we were all here for school shopping the other day….I know, that’s what we said. I figured I’d bring it to Professor McGonagall’s attention. It seems a terrible oversight, quite a large one. Listen though, I actually wanted to tell you about something I found while here. I remember you saying your parents were a bit weird about getting post by owl, and that the muggle interface for mail takes a long time. These guys are selling magical cell phones. Yeah, that’s what I said. There’s a problem though…they’re going out of business. Apparently none of the people who might have been interested knew about this place. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I figured I’d help them out, you know, spread the word? I’m sure yours aren’t the only parents that would appreciate this. I’m actually using one of them right now. They let me borrow it when I said I’d rustle up some business for them. Yeah, you do that. Spread the word far and wide. In fact…your party. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Uh huh, uh huh… Here, I’ll put him on for you, she can tell him herself.” 

Harry handed the phone back to the man and gestured for him to start talking. His friend watched with interest. Harry cleared his throat and then smiled beatifically when the man turned back to face him.

“I’d like a computer and a cell phone. In fact, now that I’ve gotten the ball rolling, I’ve no doubt you’ll soon sell out all your available stock and probably more besides. So…let’s talk discounts. Sizeable discounts.” 

Harry’s grin split his face in two, and Neville cringed just a bit, expecting the man to explode. He was rather stunned when the guy just laughed and shook his head. 

“I’ll tell you what, kid. If anything comes from you ‘getting the ball rolling’, I’ll give you one of each, free and clear. How’s that sound?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Harry agreed cheerfully, taking the offered hand and shaking it. “Bring it along to the Finch-Fletchley’s party. You can give it to me then.” 

“Party?”

Harry pointed to the other guy who was still on the phone. “Yes ma’am, we’ll certainly be there. Much obliged to you. We will, thank you.” 

The guy hung up the phone and turned to his partner with a delighted smile. 

“We’ve been invited to a party for all the new incoming muggleborn and their families on the 31st. They’re going to spread the word ahead of time, so anyone who wants to buy one will have their money ready. She’s certain we’ll probably sell at least one to each family there, and probably more once they spread word to those already attending Hogwarts who won’t be at the party!” 

“Are you joking?!”

“NO!” The men grinned at each other a moment and then began dancing around behind the counter and cheering. “This could be just the break we’ve been looking for!” 

“I guess we’ll see you at the party then. Don’t forget my stuff.” Harry reminded.

“Don’t worry, we won’t. You’ve done us a real good turn here.” 

“Don’t mention it. See you then. Say, what are your names anyway?”

“I’m Alexander and he’s Graham. Bell.” 

“Any relation to Katie Bell?”

“She’s our daughter.”

Neville nodded and Harry’s eyes got big. 

“Your daughter…as in both of you? Together?”

The two men stilled and their faces went blank. “Is that a problem?”

Harry shook himself and smiled. “No. Sorry. I was just surprised, is all. How does that work, anyway? Is that even legal?”

“Not in the muggle world. It’s one way the wizarding world is truly superior.”

“Did one of you have a baby?”

The two men laughed, and Neville looked at Harry liked he’d just grown an extra head.

“What? With magic involved it’s not a weird question.”

“No, it’s not, but no. We found a surrogate who had a child for us.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, we’ll see you, I guess.” 

“See you. Thanks again!” 

The two guys closed up shop behind them. They wanted to have as much stock ready to sell as possible before the party. They were going to be busy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of summer, a party, the return of Percy Weasley. The children begin their plans to return culture to Hogwarts.

“Hey, we’re home.” 

Sirius cut off mid-rant and turned to look at the two boys framed in the doorway. 

“It’s about time. Where all were you?”

“Here and there. So, what happened with that old man?”

“That’s what he was just telling us. I still can’t believe Daedelus would try something like that.” Remus replied. 

The boys sat down and looked at Sirius attentively.

“I went over to have a little talk with Diggle, but Tom the barkeep got in the middle. Do you believe that guy? He was all like ‘oh, leave him alone. He’s an idiot, but he means well!’ I told him there was no way I was going to let him get away with it. I drug him down to the Ministry to the Auror Department. I saw that Kingsley Shaklebolt when we got there. Diggle called to him for help, but he was heading out on assignment. It’s kind of funny, as he ended up involved in the case anyway—the assignment he was called out on was to investigate the incident at the Leaky Cauldron. He ended up taking all the witness statements. Diggle got a fine, and last I saw he was in a holding cell crying for Dumbledore to come rescue him.”

“I’m sure Dumbledore will be thrilled to hear that. This is the second of his friends that’s been arrested in the middle of a mess involving me.” Harry scoffed.

“Yeah. I’m half tempted to head off to Hogwarts and punch Dumbledore in the nose.” 

“Sirius.” Remus sighed.

“What? This is getting bloody ridiculous! First goddamn Doge is standing in the way of having Harry’s records unsealed and being all dismissive, and now goddamn Diggle is telling people I’m an unfit guardian and trying to kidnap Harry in broad daylight by shooting him in the back in front of witnesses! What’s next? Huh? Tell me that!” 

“I highly doubt Dumbledore told Diggle to do such a thing, so punching him in the nose seems counterproductive, to say the least. We both know Diggle has never had much sense. I imagine, in his own way, he was trying to do a good thing…”

Remus trailed off and winced when Sirius and Harry just looked at him. Even Neville was looking at him like he was nuts.

“I’m not excusing what he tried doing, I’m just saying.”

Sirius flopped down on the couch and sighed. 

“Fine, I won’t go punch Dumbledore, but if anything else happens…” 

“ Good.” Remus replied, relieved.

He turned to the two boys and smiled. “So, what all did you two do today?”

“Um…we learned a bunch of foreign languages.” Neville offered.

“I earned myself a free computer and cell phone and saved some guys’ business.” Harry added offhand.

“Well. That’s nice.”   
“It’s always something with you, huh kiddo?”

“It’s a gift.”   
   
 

 

The remaining days of summer seemed to flit by, almost too quickly. Before they knew it, it was the 31st of August—the day of the Finch-Fletchley party, and the last day of summer before all the kids returned to Hogwarts. 

The party this year was gearing up to be a much bigger deal than the previous year’s party had been. The guest list was going to be a lot larger—the new muggleborns that would be starting that year, the ones that started last year, select persons from the Melting Pot, a number of non-muggleborn, non-Melting Pot members of Hufflepuff house, their families, and of course the Bells, who would be selling their magical cell phones in hopes of staving off the collapse of their business.

There was already a sizeable crowd there when Harry, Neville, Sirius and Adeline (who was starting to be around far too often for Harry’s liking) arrived. The adults were seated at café tables scattered across the large patio that ran the length of the house in back, and the kids were scattered across the lawn in a huge, milling group. Alexander and Graham were already there, deep in discussion with several of the parents, who were examining the cell phones they’d brought with them. Vernon and Petunia were among their number.   
Harry avoided the notice of his aunt and uncle, while Neville went to greet his gran, who was also there already, and headed down to the crowd of kids.   
 

“Oi, Harry! I heard someone tried to kidnap you! Is that true?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Weird, huh?”

“What happened? Why didn’t I hear about this?” Ernie MacMillan wondered.

“It was in the Daily Prophet.”

“Oh, I didn’t see it. I don’t have a subscription. I used to borrow my friend’s copy at school.”

“So what happened anyway?” Dean asked.

“Well, it happened that day I had Neville calling people, when I was teaching him to use the phone.”

“Teaching him to use the phone?” Katie Bell, who was there this year with her dads, laughed.

“Well, he never saw one before, did he? I figured it was a useful skill, so I took him to a phone booth while we were wandering around London. After he had some practice, I had him call us a cab and had it take us to the corner just past the Leaky Cauldron…” 

Harry described the confrontation and its aftermath to a wide-eyed, enraptured audience. One tiny, spastic little boy kept taking pictures of him while he was talking. Harry was getting blinded by the constant camera flashes right in his face, and finally had enough. He took the boy’s camera.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself.” Harry quipped before taking a picture of the boy, while making sure to get the flash right in both his eyes. He then took another picture and another in short order, while doing his best to blind him each time.

“H-hey! Stop that!”  
“Seeing spots? Yeah, so was I. Knock it off.”   
 

“I heard that guy had stuff growing in his brain. He was crazy or something.” Katie Bell interjected after Harry handed the kid’s camera back.

“Stuff growing in his brain?” Dean asked, sounding ill.

“Yeah. He was acting weird or something while he was in the holding cell. They took him to St. Mungo’s to have him checked out, and they found stuff growing in his brain. Some guy, Lovegood I think his name is, decided they were ‘wrackspurts’ based on the description. He writes about them in his paper, the Quibbler. Most people assumed he just made stuff up, and that all his readers were weirdos, but apparently there’s at least some truth to some of it, because the recipe he gave St. Mungo’s to deal with the things worked.” Katie agreed.

“What was the recipe?” Hermione wondered.

“Turnip juice, mostly.” Harry replied. He’d gotten a letter from Luna after the story about the kidnapping attempt had appeared in the Daily Prophet. She’d sent an update later after her dad visited St. Mungo’s. 

 “Turnip juice?” Hermione scoffed. “To cure things growing in your brain? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve seen that paper, the Quibbler, it’s all nonsense. Probably some treatment the healers had already tried actually did it. I’ll bet anything his turnip juice didn’t do anything.” 

“Wow, you’re being especially scathing and disdainful today.” Harry quipped.

“Like I said, it’s all nonsense. Turnip juice. Honestly.” 

Katie stared down at Hermione with one eyebrow raised, until the younger girl began fidgeting under her stare. “It’s according to the healers that the turnip juice is what did the trick. I think I’ll take their word over a second year.” 

Hermione burst into tears and ran from the group. Katie looked stricken and turned remorsefully to the rest of the group. “Gee, I feel like a heel now.”

“Don’t worry about it. She needs that every once in a while. She gets a bit full of herself sometimes. It’s good for her. Really.” Harry assured her.  
 

 

“So, uh, did any of you read that article about the Weasleys?” Hannah Abbot asked the group.

“There was an article about the Weasleys? I didn’t see that.” Neville said in surprise.

“It was in Witch Weekly.”

“That would be why. What was the article about?” Dean wondered.

“You know the Gryffindor Prefect, Percy? He ran away from home! He’s been living at a muggle university with his girlfriend, and partying all night. He’s also been fighting in an underground street-fighter tournament! Can you believe it?”

“Percy the prefect? Wow.” Susan laughed.

“He’s wearing leather trousers. I know that much. He also stole my godfather’s motorcycle.” Harry nodded.

Several of the girls started giggling. It seemed Percy had gained a fan group.

“How did they even find him? His family hasn’t been able to.” Hannah wondered.

“That’s kind of my godfather’s fault. There’s a thing on his motorcycle that keeps parents from being able to find you and drag you home if you’re off being rebellious. His parents can’t find him, but anyone else can. Barty Crouch has been writing back and forth with him. In fact, he was at his birthday party on the 22nd.”

“His birthday party? Where was it if he hasn’t been home?” Susan asked.

“Strangely enough, Oliver Wood hosted it. He figured they were even for the whole him trying to kill Percy thing after he sent him in his stead with the portkey his family sent to bring him home. He went to see him after his hexes were cleared up, and they made up or something. Percy needed a new place to stay anyway, because the muggle students were coming back to the university he was staying in.” 

“Has anybody told his parents that anyone else can find him?” Dean asked curiously.

“Well, no. His mum ended up in the hospital because she walked into Percy’s room. The rest of the family had hexed it up to punish him. She was there for two weeks. When Oliver showed up with the portkey, everyone opened fire, thinking it was Percy. He nearly ended up in the hospital too. Everyone figures Percy has good reason for not going home, sadly enough. Barty was keeping in touch to make sure he was alright; as long as he was, he saw no reason to put his parents on his trail. Besides…Mr. Weasley had the motorcycle for years while Sirius was in Azkaban; he probably knows about the thing. He could actually have just asked someone to go get him at any time—he hasn’t. Maybe he doesn’t actually want him to come home? I don’t know. He did send the portkey off; he knew the owl could find him.” 

“Maybe his dad is keeping his mouth shut so he can just run wild for a bit and get it out of his system?” Hannah wondered.

“Could be. I just don’t know.”   
 

 

Harry turned to look when someone poked him in the arm. 

“Holy crap! Dudley! Look at you!” 

Dudley grinned and rocked back on his heels, quite proud of the gobsmacked look he’d managed to put on his cousin’s face. 

“I take it you’ve been keeping up with your exercising?”

“And eating fruit till I puked, yeah.”  
“You’re bulimic? You don’t want to go down that road, man. It like, rots your teeth and stuff.”  
“Huh?”  
“What?”  
“What are you talking about? Rots your teeth?”  
“Oh, was it just a turn of phrase? Nevermind.”

Dudley gave Harry an odd look, and then continued. “I dropped a couple of trouser sizes since I saw you last.”

“I can see that. Wow. I expected you to be thinner, but…”

“Yeah. You’d think mum’d be happier; she’s the one who was insisting on the diet and all, but now she’s afraid I’m starving to death.”

“You haven’t gotten that skinny, geez.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told her.” They lapsed into silence, but for once it wasn’t uncomfortable or strained.

“So…some old guy tried to kidnap you?”

“Or something. He was gonna carry me off because he thought I shouldn’t be allowed to walk around on my own.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Hey, I’m getting a new cell phone. Those guys over there are selling them.”

“I’m getting one too. I told them about this party and got them invited, so they’re giving me one free.”

“Yeah? Give me your number before we leave.”

Harry blinked, rather surprised by the request. “Um, okay?” he replied uncertainly. “I’m getting a computer too. I guess I should see if they can get it set up for internet before I leave. That should be interesting. I’ve never had a computer before.”

“Huh. In that case, give me your e-mail address too. No, on second thought, I’ll give you mine. Even if they get it ready, you’ll probably still have to set up your account and all. Drop me a line when you get it working, and I’ll get your address that way.”

“I don’t actually know anything about e-mail.” 

“It’ll be fine, they usually have tutorials and stuff to show you what to do. Do you have any games on it?”

“I don’t think so, but then I haven’t even gotten it yet. They’re supposed to give it to me here.” 

“Yeah? Come on. I know my way around a computer, I can show you how to set it up.” 

Just like that, Dudley started across the lawn towards where Alex and Graham were mingling with the other parents, most of whom now had cell phones. From what he could see as he approached, the box they’d been in was empty, and the two men seemed quite cheerful, so he supposed they’d done a good business.   
   
Dudley reached the men before Harry had even properly started across the lawn. He spoke to Graham briefly, who nodded, and then followed him back into the house. Curious now, Harry started across the lawn as well. Graham and Dudley returned shortly after he arrived on the patio. Graham was carrying a laptop computer, Dudley had a cell phone which he was poking at.   
Graham set the thing down on one of the empty tables away from the crowd and opened it up, as Harry moved to join them. 

“Here. This one’s yours. I put my cell number in it already.”  
“Put it in?”  
“Yeah, there’s a phone book thing in there. You can add people’s numbers so you don’t have to remember them all. You can just look the person up and tell the phone to call them.”  
“You can?”  
“You don’t even know that? Geez. Look, see? You do this and then this, and then you use the keys to type with.”  
“How does it know what letter you want?”  
“You keep pushing till it gets the right one, see? One push D. If I push it again it shows E, again F. If you pass the letter you want, just keep pushing till it comes around again.”   
Dudley punched in ‘Dursley House’ and then entered the phone number and saved it.  
“If you want to look up someone, just do this and then this, then scroll down and then push this here. See? It says ‘calling’. I called home, so there’s not going to be an answer. If you want to hang up you push here.”   
“Oi, you got a phone too? It’s wild, innit? I didn’t think my mum was gonna go for it, but she said it was a good investment, even if it’s a bit pricy now. Let me get it, I’ll grab your number.” Dean said from behind them.   
Dudley evidently thought that was a good idea, because he went and fetched his new phone as well from his father.  
“How do you know what the number is?”  
“Oh, that’s easy. See? Go in here again, but keep scrolling. See? It says ‘my phone number’.”   
“Oh, okay.” 

The other kids, seeing what they were doing, went and fetched their new phones and began programming them as well—mostly with Dudley’s help, as he was the only one there with prior cell phone experience. He seemed to get a real kick out of being the most knowledgeable one in the room for once. 

Mrs. Finch-Fletchley, upon seeing what everyone was doing, started passing around a paper for everyone to write down their names and phone numbers on to make things easier. Augusta made a stack of copies when the list had been completed. 

Graham motioned Harry over and walked him through getting the computer set up and internet-ready, and added his, Alexander and Katie’s e-mail addresses to his mail program, and then Dudley’s when he offered. After it was all set up, Graham went back to the party, and Dudley took his place so he could show him around the thing and how to do stuff on it. 

When Harry had thought about this party, he’d never in a million years expected to spend a large portion of it with Dudley, learning how to use his cell phone and computer. It was a strange old world sometimes.  
   
 

“Are you all packed and everything?”

“Mostly. I have a few things I need to add to my trunk, but that’s it.”

“Well, why don’t you go do that then. We don’t want to be scrambling come morning.” 

“Yeah, alright.”

“Don’t stay up all night playing with your contraption either.”

“I won’t.” 

Harry went up to his room changed out of his party clothes and took a bath, changing into his pajamas. The party had run pretty much the whole day; he’d probably be going to bed after he finished getting his trunk ready.  
 

 

He had thoroughly cleaned out his trunk when he’d gotten home at the end of last term, so that much was already done. He spent the next hour transferring his clothes and uniforms to the bottom compartment, and his school supplies as well as a selection of extra reading material, his new computer and cell phone to the top compartment. He flicked idly through his big pile of free Lockhart books, which he hadn’t so much as looked as since getting, before fitting them into the trunk. While doing so, an extra book fell out from in between them and landed in his lap. He put the last of his school books away and picked up the extra, flipping through it quickly. It was a blank journal—an old one, by the look of it. 

“Might be useful.” Harry decided, closing it. That was when he saw a name stamped on the cover. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

 Harry simply stared at the thing for a long time, wondering what it meant, and how it had gotten with his things. It was then that he remembered something, though he still wasn’t sure what it meant.  
He dug into his newly-packed things and withdrew his sketchpad. He opened it and there, tucked in under the cover was a picture he had made nearly a year previously, though it had changed a lot from what he had originally drawn.

The picture showed the Chamber of Secrets, though it wasn’t empty. A snake-faced Voldemort sat in a throne beneath the statue of Salazar Slytherin that dominated one end of the Chamber. To one side there was a table with two chairs at which sat an eleven year old Tom Riddle and a teenage version of the same. The teen version had a small black diary. For once, he didn’t seem to be writing in it, as he usually was whenever Harry had looked at the picture in the past. It was simply sitting on the table near his elbow. He and the younger version of himself were talking while munching on a plate of biscuits that sat on the table between them.   
   
Harry set the book and picture aside and finished gathering his things to pack in his trunk. He made a last sweep through his rooms, looking for anything he might have forgotten, and once satisfied, closed up the trunk and put it near his door, with the clothes he’d be wearing tomorrow neatly folded on top.   
Once satisfied, he climbed onto his bed with the picture and book so he could study them both. 

He scanned the book from top to bottom with his wand, using every spell he knew to do so—both those learned from books in his library, and a few others he’d picked up from Remus while they'd worked on the diadem together.

The book, whatever all was done to it, was an extremely complicated piece of magic. Layers upon layers of spells covered the thing.

“Hmm…that there looks familiar. Where have I seen it before?” Harry murmured to himself. He had no idea what the majority of the spells were on the few items he’d scanned like this, but this one particular strand he’d seen before—more than once.

He padded off to the library, book in hand, to find the diadem. It was wrapped in Remus’ hankerchief, as it usually was when it wasn’t being worked on. Harry unwrapped it and scanned it. There, layered under the curse they were trying to unravel, but over the older enchantments they still hadn’t figured out—it was the same pattern. Curious now, he went back to his room, diadem in hand, and climbed down into the bottom room in his parents’ trunk. The locket was still down there, wrapped in the rags Kreacher had kept it in. He scanned that as well, and found the same pattern again.   
   
He looked down at the book in his hand, and then at the diadem and the locket, before heading back upstairs to look at the picture again.   
The diary was still sitting on the table by Tom Riddle’s elbow. 

Harry debated with himself, and then shrugged, figuring his idea couldn’t hurt—however strange, it was just a picture, after all. He inserted a picture of the diadem and the locket into the existing picture, and then blinked. There were two more Tom Riddles in the picture now. 

The Tom standing behind the diadem looked to be about 45 or so. He was gaunt-faced, though his skin sagged in places as though it were beginning to melt. His dark eyes were shadowed with red, and his hair was slightly lank—no longer the obsessively neat nest of waves his teenage-self sported. 

The Tom behind the locket was older still, though how much so, Harry couldn’t be sure. If his counterpart looked as though he were beginning to melt, in him it was a full-on phenomenon. His skin sagged oddly as though it were preparing to slough off completely. His formerly ivory pallor was now a sickly grey-white. His hair looked to be receeding, and his eyes were more red than not. His lips and nose were oddly distorted, as though parts of them had rotted away and then healed over into shiny scar tissue. He was gruesome—like a newly risen zombie from a b-grade horror movie--before the excessive rotting and mindless search for brains really kicked in.

Harry could remember thinking at one point that something had happened to the teenage version that made him unable to see the elder Voldemort for the monster he was. Harry had a feeling he was now seeing whatever that something was.

 

   
As he watched, snakey-mort on the throne began spazing-out when the two new versions of him made their appearance. He drew his wand, shouted something and summoned the diary, locket and diadem to himself. He held the three items as though they were infinitely precious…and then tossed them into the cavern of Slytherin’s mouth after opening it. 

Diadem-mort said something to his companion, who was freaking out about his locket being taken, and they both drew their wands and opened fire on Snakey-mort. He was bound in ropes and tumbled to the ground, while thrashing and screaming imprecations at the two newcomers. He obviously hadn’t been expecting the attack. Diadem-mort said something further to Locket-mort, who then levitated Snakey-mort and tossed him in after the items. 

Diadem-mort waited until Snakey-mort was safely ensconced within, and then shot Locket-mort in the back and bound him up like Snakey-mort had just been. Locket-mort was consigned to the statue’s mouth as well. 

Teen-mort and the kid version had hidden behind one of the many pillars that lined the chamber when the violence erupted. They peeked out, wands at the ready. Diadem-mort studied them both a moment before addressing them. They spoke briefly, and then the teen and kid warily stepped out into the open, though neither relaxed their guard. 

Diadem-mort summoned the throne from beneath the statue, and placed it at the end of the table where the teen and kid spent most of their time. The teen and kid exchanged a glance and then went and took their customary seats. Diadem-mort took a biscuit and began eating it; he then conjured a pot of tea and three cups. Teen-mort glared at him and crossed his arms, while a muscle twitched in his jaw. The kid sighed, rolled his eyes, and began pouring the tea. He poured a cup for himself, settled back and began drinking. The teen’s lips twitched in amusement, while Diadem-mort looked faintly aggravated.

Teen-mort, who was now smirking, flicked his wand and made the pot pour him a cup of tea as well. He sat back and began sipping his as soon as the cup was filled. 

Diadem-mort huffed, conjured a humanoid figure that looked to be made of animated wood, and then sat back, with his arms crossed. The figure picked up the pot and poured a cup of tea for him as well. 

Teen-mort huffed and looked aggravated by being shown up, but the kid looked fascinated. He began questioning Diadem-mort, who sat back and began lecturing, looking quite content and at home while he did so. 

“The more I learn about You-know-who, the less I feel I know.” Harry murmured. He carefully put away the picture in his trunk, and then packed away the diary, diadem and locket in his parents’ trunk. He still didn’t know what they were, but all the weirdness with the picture made him certain they were more dangerous than he’d really thought they were. He really needed to find out more before messing with them any further. He locked his parents’ trunk and tucked away the key. 

He could use the school year to do research, and then he could try to unravel their mystery when he felt more confident.   
He climbed into bed, and went to sleep.   
   
 

 

“Here you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for all of you. You all have your summer homework done, I trust? I’m talking to you Ron. I seem to remember you saying you hadn’t yet done it when I saw you at Neville’s birthday party. Hello Ginny. Who are you?” she demanded of the small blonde girl seated in the compartment with the rest of them. 

The girl opened her mouth to answer, but Hermione kept talking, not giving her a chance to. 

“I’m Hermione Granger. You must be a first year, I don’t recognize you. I just got back from a trip with my parents. We popped over to Belgium for a week. It was quite lovely. I tried getting some books from the magical district there, but I don’t speak or read the language, and all the selections they had in English were all things I’d already read or have access to, it was very disappointing. Did you two do anything interesting since I’ve seen you last? How is Percy, by the way? Did he ever come home?” 

There was a ringing silence in the compartment when Hermione finally stopped talking. When no one answered her, she began getting aggravated. “Well? Is anyone going to answer me?”

“Which question? You asked so many. You’re supposed to give folks a chance to answer when you ask a question, that’s how conversations work. You’re doing it all wrong.” Ron quipped. 

The rest of them started laughing and nodded, and then laughed harder when Hermione bristled indignantly.  
Hermione crossed her arms and flopped down on an empty seat. 

   
The train started moving, and the kids hurried to hang out the window and wave as the train began to pull away. “Goodbye, mum!” Ginny called out, while she and Ron waved excitedly. The blonde girl waved to a pale haired man in a butter yellow robe. Neville waved to his gran. 

“Aren’t you going to wave goodbye to anyone?” the blonde girl inquired.

“My parents can’t get onto the platform, they’re muggles. I expect they’ve already gone home by now.” 

“That’s a shame. It must make for a very lonely leaving.”

“Who are you, anyway? You never did tell me your name.”

“I’m Luna. Luna Lovegood.”

“Oh…your father sold our book.”

“Yes, that’s right. I live near Ronald and Ginevra.” 

“Oh. That’s nice. Um…any idea what house you’ll be in?” Hermione asked, a bit uncomfortable. The girl seemed rather spacy.

“I’ll probably be in Ravenclaw; both of my parents were.”

“How nice. Hey, Ron, you never answered me about Percy. Did you ever find him?”

“Nah. He never came home. Mum’s all depressed. She figured he was going places and now he’s just run off to be a rebellious loser. She seems to feel we’re all letting her down by not being different or something.”

“She’s fine with you, Mr. novelist.” Ginny griped.

“Was, until she found out all the proceeds are gonna be held in a trust fund. She seemed to think we were all gonna be living high on the hog with my earnings. I even told her it prolly wasn’t gonna be much, but she’s been acting all reproachful and whatnot.”

“Surely he hasn’t skipped out on school though!” Hermione gasped. “We know how important education is to him.” She drew her wand and cast a quick plotting spell. “See? He’s on the train. He’s in the prefect’s compartment.”

“We didn’t see him anywhere, and we looked!” Ginny protested. “Mum’s been beside herself. He didn’t go school shopping, and then we didn’t see him on the platform…She’s convinced he’s dropped out of school or something.” 

“We should tell the twins. We need to go give him a piece of our minds.”

“Is that a good idea? It hasn’t worked out too well so far.” Neville reminded him.

“We don’t have our wands.” Ron admitted.

“What? None of you?” Hermione said in shock.

“Mum sent them to professor McGonagall. We won’t get them till we get to school.” Ron suddenly realized something. “Hey! How come you were able to plot Percy? Mum and Dad couldn’t!”

“Your dad sent him an owl. He must have known it was going to reach him. Oliver Wood was able to find him again after he played that trick on him. It was Sirius’ motorcycle that was blocking them. In fact, your dad had the motorcycle for years while Sirius was in prison. He must have known what was going on, and how to get around it.” Neville explained.

“Wait…are you saying dad could have brought him home any time?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

“Heh. I’m getting good presents for Christmas this year.” Ginny tittered.

“Huh? What are you talking about.” 

“All I have to do is let dad know I know…and that I won’t tell mum…for a price.” 

“Oi! What about me!” Ron sputtered.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You’re here, aren’t you? I would think that would go without saying.”

“Oh, right! Heh, the twins are gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh, please. You think they haven’t already figured all this out? I’m sure they’ve already named their price to dad.” 

Ron’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Yeah, they probably have.” He realized. “But hey, they don’t have to pay for Percy, so there should be plenty of extra money to go around. This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!” 

“I don’t believe you! Worrying over presents, rather than your brother!” Hermione gasped, outraged.

“Oi, he’s the one that ran off, and then just stayed gone. Why would I bother worrying over him. It’s pretty obvious, innit, that he’s not sparing much thought for the rest of us.”   
Ginny nodded her head sharply, while scowling. It was obvious she felt much the same way about things that Ron did.

“Let’s stop talking about Percy-the-prat. Where’s Harry at, anyway? We’ve been moving for a while. He’s usually wherever you are, Neville. You piss him off or something, and he gave you the old heave-ho?”

“No, he’s busy with the planning committee.”

“Planning committee? What planning committee?” Hermione spluttered.

“For the Melting Pot. He realized things were gonna be getting crowded if we brought in the new first years. He got in touch a couple of third years from each house over the summer and suggested a joint planning committee to discuss the future of the Melting Pot. So, the group that set up the Melting Pot and this new group are meeting right now figuring out what they’re going to do. They’ll either be starting a whole new clubhouse for themselves and the fourth and fifth years, or we’ll be splitting different activities into different rooms so that it won’t be so crowded. That’s what they’re deciding now.” Neville explained.

“It might have been nice if he’d told the rest of us! Did he ever think that we might have wanted in on this process? Honestly!” Hermione huffed.

“Hey, that reminds me…I’m supposed to be doing something right now myself. You can help with that if you want.” Neville offered.

“What is it?”

“The board of governors commissioned some new paintings.”

“Paintings.” Hermione sniffed disdainfully. “A fine thing to waste money on, when we have far too many already.” 

“No, these are special. They’re not portraits like usual, they’re empty scenes of different sorts—one has two podiums to either side, one has a bunch of chairs in back and a single podium up front, one is an empty classroom with a big blackboard….that’s all I remember. We got into a discussion with my gran and Harry’s grandpa Arcturus about how the portraits are always trying to share their knowledge and stuff, but we usually only see them when we’re in the halls and trying to get to class, and that they were kind of being wasted as living history, and instead had become a creepy spy system instead. Anyway, what’s going to happen is that we’re going to survey the students, and see what kind of stuff they’d like to learn—it can be anything. Like say, maybe go more into depth on something that we cover at Hogwarts, but not for very long, or something they don’t cover in Hogwarts at all—like, I dunno, cheesemaking, or, oh! Wine-making…there’s that portrait of the monks making wine, right? So, we survey the students, and then match up knowledgeable portraits to the subject, and assign them to one of the special portraits, either to give a lecture, to teach a short class, hold a debate or what have you. They’ve already set up a couple of large classrooms with stadium seating that aren’t normally used and put the new paintings on the wall in each one. A schedule is supposed to be posted in the common rooms for anyone that wants to attend the portrait lectures. They’ll be after classes and on weekends, mostly.” 

Hermione’s eyes gleamed in interest. “Let’s get started then. I’ll go left and you go right?”

“Whatever.”

“I can help too, if you like.” Luna offered.

“We both will.” Ginny volunteered as well. It had just occurred to her that, if Harry was in a meeting with a bunch of third years, that horrid girl Cho Chang was probably one of them. She wasn’t going to allow her Harry to stay closeted away with some slag of a Ravenclaw when he should be getting to know his future wife. 

Ron looked around, and realized he’d been ditched by everyone. With a sigh, he set off to find the twins, and let them know that Percy was on the train.  
 

 

“Oh, Sally-Anne…you’re handing out surveys as well?” Hermione said in surprise when she ran into the other girl in the hall and saw she was also carrying a stack of papers.

“Surveys? No, I’m letting people know there’s going to be a choir this year. My mum is going to be the choir director. It’ll be nice, I think, being able to see her during the year.”

“Your mum is a witch then?”

“Yeah, muggle-born, like you. My mum’s family is religious, so she kept up going to church, even after she started Hogwarts. She was part of the choir growing up, and then was the director for a couple of years until she started a family. I’m the youngest, and so she was pleased as anything to be asked back to Hogwarts to do something like this. It’s not a huge salary, but then dad works, so we don’t really need it. She always thought Hogwarts could use a bit more culture, but nothing ever came of it while she was at school. She’s glad there was a shake-up with the board, because the new folks seem to be just what the school needed. Apparently they were always dead-locked, or just not really doing their jobs, which is why nothing ever seemed to get done. Did you hear there’s going to be some kind of classrooms where the portraits can come give extra lectures and things? I wasn’t too enthused, but then mum pointed out that it really is a unique opportunity. Muggle film only goes back so many years, so there’s whole swaths of historical personages from the muggle world that are lost to time—only with portraits can you really get a living window into history. Once I thought about it I realized she was right, and I should take advantage…unless they’re all boring old biddies, in which case I probably won’t bother.” 

“That’s actually what I’m doing.” Hermione admitted. “I’m handing out surveys to find out what people want to learn about.”

“Really? Give me one.” 

“Actually, I left one with your roommates. They said you were doing something, and to just leave an extra.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll go fill it out once I’m done spreading the word about the choir.” 

“I’ll let you get back to that then.” 

“See ya.”   
   
 

“Oi, Malfoy…you passing out surveys too?” Ron asked curiously when he ran into the other boy while looking for the twins.

“Surveys? What are you talking about, Weasley? I’m telling everyone that there’s going to be a fencing club this year at Hogwarts, and my father is going to be the instructor.”  
“Oh…everyone that was in my compartment ran off to hand out surveys to find out what they want to hear from portraits. It’s mad, isn’t it, giving yourself extra classes like that?”  
“Some of us are happy to have the opportunity to better ourselves. Of course, I probably won’t be able to make as much use of the opportunity as I might like. I’ll be trying out for the quidditch team this year. I’m sure to be picked.”

“Can it, Malfoy, you don’t want to hang out listing to a bunch of old portraits any more than I do. I guess it’s lucky for you there’s an open spot on the quidditch team so you have an excuse, huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Weasley” Draco replied, his voice airy.

“Well, well, well, what have we here, Gred?”  
“Why, I think we have ickle Ronnikins consorting with the enemy.”  
“A Slytherin.”  
“A Malfoy.”  
“Right you are brother. That’s worse, isn’t it?”  
“Loads worse. Why, it’s treason to the name of Weasley, it is.”   
“I think we need to teach you both a little lesson, don’t we Forge?”  
“Indeed, Gred, indeed.”

Draco looked between the twins, at their feral grins, and began getting nervous. It just figured there was no sign of any prefects about when they might actually useful.

“Relax, Malfoy. They don’t have their wands on them.” Ron huffed.

Draco relaxed and smirked at the twins, who kept grinning. 

“You wound us, brother dear.”  
“As if we need a wand to wreak havoc.”  
“And there you go, being traitorous again.”  
“Indeed. Siding with a Malfoy of all people, against your own brothers.”  
“For shame, Ronnikins.”  
“For shame.” 

The twins sniggered delightedly when Draco began looking nervous again, only to look puzzled when he suddenly relaxed and smirked again.

Percy grabbed the twins and knocked their heads together.

“OW!”  
“Bloody hell!"   
"Percy?!” Ron squeaked.

Percy ignored their astonishment. He drew his wand, flicked it and snatched the resulting pile of odd candies, firecrackers, and dung bombs that flew out of their pockets, into a bag he pulled from his own pocket. 

“Behave yourselves, you two. I’m sure our house won’t appreciate you losing us points before we’re even to the castle.”  
 

 

Fred, George and Ron all gaped at Percy in bemused horror. He looked a lot different than he had the last time they’d seen him. He had a Mohawk—a foot tall Mohawk that was bright, fire-engine red and had black and gold tips. His eyebrow was pierced, as was the opposite ear, and his nose. He had a tattoo of a spider web on his neck, the words ‘love’ and ‘hate’ inscribed across his knuckles, and a heart that said ‘mum’ on his right arm. His school uniform had been defaced in various ways—the sleeves had been torn off, he wasn’t wearing the regulation shirt and vest, nor the regulation trousers—he was bare-chested and wearing studded leather trousers…and a tie, though rather than the usual striped red and gold tie of Gryffindor, he had on a tie with alternating rows of red and gold skulls. He was also wearing boots: thick, heavy-soled boots with a studded strap around both ankles. He had numerous studded bracelets going up both his bare arms. He was also wearing his glasses—though he’d gotten new frames: they were thick, black frames with a skull motif to match his tie, and a little wing on each of the outer upper corners with his initials ‘P’ in one and ‘W’ in the other. 

“Oh. My. Goodness.” Fred breathed when his brain finally started functioning again.  
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?” Ron demanded hysterically. “MUM’S GOING TO GO SPARE!”   
“MUM?” George squeaked, sounding equally hysterical. “WHAT ABOUT MCGONAGALL? SHE’S GOING TO FREAK! AND PUT US SO FAR IN NEGATIVE POINTS WE NEVER RECOVER!”  
“SHE’LL KICK US OFF THE QUIDDITCH TEAM! EVERYONE KEEPS BLAMING US! THEY’LL SAY THIS IS OUR FAULT!” Fred added, now equally hysterical. 

Draco looked around at the three of them and shook his head. He started walking towards Percy. “Your family is weird, Weasley. Oh, well, at least there’s one of you who’s respectable. Good to see your summer away was profitable.”

 

“Eh? Percy’s respectable, but the rest of us aren’t? What am I, chopped liver? What are you on, Malfoy?” Ron demanded.

“I haven’t decided yet if you are or aren’t. Sometimes you almost seem like you could be, and then you do something to mess it up. Make up your mind, and maybe I’ll decide you’re respectable, or nearly, anyway.” Draco scoffed, before sauntering away with his nose in the air.

“Oi, get back here.” Ron grumbled, while stomping after him. 

 

Percy watched them go, and then turned back to the twins, who were trembling, teary-eyed and clinging to one another while muttering under their breath about the world ending. He flicked them both in the forehead and continued on his way. When he’d gone down a little way, he ducked into a compartment and held the door open a moment longer.

 

“Did you get it?” He asked.

Penny Clearwater, his girlfriend, and in his own humble opinion, the hottest Ravenclaw ever, reappeared after casting the counter to the disillusionment spell she’d been under. She grinned and waved the camera she held in her hands. 

“Yep. Got the whole confrontation. That charm of yours worked a treat. What did they see?”

“Me dressed up like a hooligan, mostly. The still don’t seem to realize they were the only ones who could. That Malfoy kid didn’t see anything.” Percy explained. He grinned suddenly and chuckled in remembrance. “Did you see their faces?”

“Yeah, priceless.”

Percy locked the door, and flicked his wand to draw the blinds on the windows. “Come here, you.” 

Penny grinned and threw her arms around Percy’s neck.   
   
 

 

The night had gotten blustery and cold by the time they pulled into Hogsmeade station. There was the usual milling chaos on the platform as the students disembarked-- the older students heading for the carriages that lined the road, and the first years looking excited, sick and uncertain.

“First years! First years over here!” 

Harry turned to look and see who was calling. It was a thin boy in his late teens or early twenties with bad skin and wispy hair—not exactly a sight to engender confidence in the first years. His squeaky voice could barely be heard over the roar of the crowd, unlike Hagrid who’s normal speaking voice was a bellow. Harry nudged some of the kids nearest him to help him round up the first years and send them towards the new guy.   
This was a fairly simple process as many of the first years had been hanging out with second years and third years they’d met at the Finch-Fletchley party the day before, and the rest had been with children they’d grown up around.   
Once the first years were sent on their way, Harry and the others made their way towards the carriages. 

“Oi! Harry! There you are, mate! Hurry up! We’ve got a carriage saved.” Ron called from the darkness.

The others with him split off to get carriages of their own.

“See you later, Harry.” Cho called over her shoulder as she left. Harry grinned at her and waved, only to feel a wave of hostility hit him in the side. He turned to look, and found Ginny Weasley scowling at him, her face bright red.

“Hello, Harry Potter.”

Harry blinked and turned to look at the little blonde girl standing next to Ginny.

“Luna?”

“Yes, that’s my name.”

“Ah, nice to finally meet you. What are you two doing over here? First years go over by boat. You might end up missing it if you don’t hurry.”

“That would be unfortunate.” 

“Just head over that way. You should see the rest of the first years standing with a skinny guy with bad skin and squeaky voice.”

Luna nodded and drifted over to where he’d indicated. Ginny scowled after her retreating back and then stomped after her.   
 

 

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville climbed into the carriage and began their ascent to the castle.

“Who was that boy that was calling the first years?” Ron wondered.

“That was Stan Shunpike. He’s the new groundskeeper.” Neville replied. 

“Think he’ll be able to manage? He doesn’t look like much.”

“I guess we’ll see. He’s probably gonna have a difficult time of it. Hagrid left behind some pretty big shoes to fill. Quite literally, in fact.” 

“Wouldn’t they have burned in the fire?” Ron asked, perplexed.

“How did you know that girl?” Hermione demanded.

“What girl?” Harry asked.

“The weird one. Luna.”

“That’s not very nice. She seemed alright to me. This was the first time I ever met her. She’s that guy Xenophilius’ daughter. Remember? He’s the guy from the Quibbler who sold the first eight-hundred copies of our book.”

“I know all that! I want to know how you know her!”

“I just told you.”

“But you knew who she was!”

“She mentioned in the acceptance letter that she’d be starting Hogwarts this year. Who else would it have been? She was standing there with Ginny, and they live right in the same area. Duh.” 

“How’d the meeting go anyway?” Neville interjected.

“Pretty good. We’ve got some ideas, but I need to ask around to see if we can actually do any of it. I’ll know tomorrow when we have our welcome to the Melting Pot party for the new first years.”

“We’re having a party? Sweet!” Ron cheered.

“Sure, we’ll have snacks, play truth or dare, introduce the new kids around, show them the ropes, all that good stuff. Also, since we’ll know more about what all we’re going to do as far as expansion goes, they can help out with that too. It’ll be a grand old time.” 

 

   
They hurried to the castle when the carriage pulled to a stop, and then hurried into the great hall. It was a welcome sight—the hundreds of candles were burning brightly, giving the room a warm golden glow, and the enchanted ceiling showed a dark sky painted with stars. They saw Percy talking to Professor McGonagall when they arrived. She handed him a couple of wands, which he tucked away in his pocket. Ron stopped dead at the sight, and paled. 

“Alright there, Ron?” Neville wondered.

“How can you ask me that? Look at Percy!”

“What? He looks great—his summer adventure seems to have done him a world of good.” Harry asked, bewildered.

Ron looked at the three of them, utterly aghast. “ARE YOU ALL MENTAL?” he shrieked.

McGonagall turned to look, and gave him a sharp look over the tops over her glasses. “That will be quite enough shouting, Mr. Weasley! Take your seat.”

Beside her, Percy gave him a reproving look as well, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, shaking his head in disappointment. His stance made his ruined school uniform hang open, showing a wide expanse of pale, freckled chest. He also noticed something he hadn’t before—he had a ‘P’ tattoo over his heart in the shape of the Hogwarts prefect badge. The sight was enough to send his poor brain stuttering to a halt. 

Ron’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell into a dead faint. Luckily, Harry and Neville were close by enough to grab him before he hit his head. The twins hurried towards them and took Ron from them. They cast a disturbed look over their shoulders at Percy, and shuddered in unison. 

“It’s not fair; we’d never get away with that.” Fred confided.  
“The world’s gone mad, it has.” George agreed. 

They hefted Ron between them, and headed for the medical wing. They all felt in need of a lie-down.  
   
“What was that all about? Why were they all acting like that about Percy?”

“Probably because he’s got all their wands; they figure he’s gonna get them, and they won’t be able to defend themselves.” Neville decided.

They all seated themselves, and then Harry’s belt started ringing. A moment later Neville and Hermione’s robes began ringing as well. The Gryffindors seated nearest them all turned to look at them askance. Their puzzlement only deepened when they each pulled out a contraption and started talking into it.  
 _  
“I dunno what it was all about. Neville thinks they’re worried because Percy has their wands.”_

_“Yeah, he’s still being weird about Percy, I dunno what that’s all about.”_

_“I really can’t talk to you right now, Dudley…the opening ceremony is about to start. I’m sure the professors won’t look at all kindly on me talking on the phone while it’s all going on. What? Oh…well…I suppose you can. I won’t know what my schedule is until tomorrow morning. I’m often quite busy until curfew…it’s at 9. No, lights out is 10. Well, yes I suppose that would be fine. No, not every night! I do have homework, you know. If I think my grades are being interfered with, that will be the end of any telephone conversations, I can tell you that much. Now, I really do have to go. Yes, I’ll tell him. Fine. Yes, alright. Goodbye, Dudley.”  
_

Hermione turned off her phone, and realized Neville and Harry were both staring at her expectantly. Hermione flushed a delicate pink, and busied herself putting it away.

“Oh, Harry, your cousin said ‘hi’.” She offered, once she’d regained her composure.

Harry’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline in astonishment. “Come again? Since when are you so chatty with Dudley?”

“He called me by accident after the party yesterday, and we got to talking.”

“By accident, right.” Harry laughed. “Dudley the playboy; who knew? Hah! Aunt Petunia’s gonna love this, I bet.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, then turned attentively towards the front of the great hall. It looked like they were about ready to get started.   
 

 

As Harry scanned across the teachers seated at the high table, they eventually came to a rest on Gilderoy Lockhart. His eyes narrowed and he cursed himself for being so stupid. He barely noticed when the first years were led into the great hall, or when the hat opened its brim and began to sing.  
 _  
“How dumb am I? I only bought a couple of books, and the diary wasn’t with any of them; then, Lockhart gave me a whole big pile of them. He must have given me the thing. Teen-mort in the picture was always writing to someone; it must have been him. That would also explain why the diary is just sitting near his elbow now—he’s waiting for me to write to him. So…the two of them are plotting against me somehow. What could they be planning? Well, the teenager is You-know-who, so that’s reason enough—he probably wants revenge or something. What’s Lockhart’s deal? Let’s see, he tried using me in the bookstore to get a front page photograph in the paper—he considers me more famous and more of a draw, and he’s not above trying to mooch some of it for himself. He’s known for battling various beasts—the waga waga werewolf, banshees, vampires, yetis, and he’s got that book about dealing with household pests. So…me, You-know-who and a beast…he must be after the chamber of secrets. That would certainly be a worthy adventure—mysterious monster roaming around, children in danger…Gilderoy Lockhart swoops in and saves the boy-who-defeated-a-dark-lord, slays the fearsome beast, saves the children, and discovers a lost legend—under the nose of Albus Dumbledore who defeated another dark-lord, all in one fell swoop. Not bad for a two-bit pretty boy. I guess I’m going to have to be proactive, so I don’t end up falling afoul of whatever stupid plot he’s hatching.”_

A flash of light distracted Harry from his musings and he watched as an excited Colin Creevey, whom he’d met at the party the day before, took several pictures of the teachers, the great hall, the rows of students, the other first years, the sorting hat, McGonagall (at close range—which she didn’t appreciate) the great hall ceiling, the house ghosts who were hovering off to the side… all before he finally started towards the Gryffindor table, where he’d just been sorted. He passed Luna along the way, and Harry smiled while clapping for their new Gryffindor. He knew just the thing to short-circuit Lockhart’s plot, whatever it was.   
 

The Sorting began to wind down, and they were getting to the end of the alphabet. Little Ginny Weasley was staring intently at the Gryffindor table, as though she were already seeing herself seated there, clad in red-and-gold. Harry stifled a sigh when he realized she was staring not at the table generally, but rather at the seat next to him. He didn’t know how she planned to sit there, as it was already filled by Neville; he was afraid she was going to make a scene and climb in between them, even if it mean forcing the whole row to shift downward. She didn’t strike him as a girl who worried too much about what others thought; she was rather spoiled, he’d found. The problem was, if he objected, he had a feeling all her brothers were going to make it their life’s work to punish him for upsetting her, even if they themselves didn’t exactly agree with her. They’d been well-trained by their mother in that respect, from what he’d seen. 

Ginny was called and she marched towards the stool, and put the hat on her head with a fierce, determined expression on her face. The hat barely touched her head before shouting ‘Gryffindor’.   
She handed the hat to McGonagall, and started towards the Gryffindor table, eyes on Harry. Her goal was clear. 

When she got close, and was just about to push her way in between Harry and Neville, just as he’d predicted, Percy leaned down the table and smiled at her.

“Welcome to Gryffindor, Gin, well done!”

The hormonal haze cleared from her gaze and she glanced towards her older brother. She froze in place, and her face paled dramatically, even as her eyes widened so large they seemed to take up most of her face. 

That’s when she began screaming.

She stumbled back, a look of horror on her face, and then fell into a dead faint. Unlike Ron, she hit her head, as there was no one close enough to grab her.   
“My word! Ginny!” Percy gasped. He scrambled from his seat and gathered the girl up. 

“Mr. Weasley?” McGonagall demanded, frozen in the act of gathering up the stool and hat to return to their usual places.

“She’s alright. I’ll just run her to Madame Pomfrey, shall I?” Percy called back.

As he scrambled from the room with Ginny in tow, phones began to ring at the Gryffindor table.

__  
“I don’t know what it was all about. She just started screaming when she saw her brother….Yes, I suspect it probably is the same as with the others. She’s just realized she’s due some payback for all the crap they tried pulling on Percy over the summer….”  
   
   
The roar of the crowd was deafening inside the Melting Pot when Harry stepped inside. The room was packed—the whole of the first, second and third year were present. The kids were excited—the first day of classes had just ended, and now it was time to relax and kick back with friends. The second and third years who hadn’t had a chance to catch up prior to this were taking advantage now. The first years were gleeful at being part of a secret club in the heart of Hogwarts. 

Harry had sent down some extra chairs early that morning before classes, to account for the new kids who would be present; it was quite crowded, and there was little room to move around.   
The two planning committees spotted him and came over to find out the verdict.

“The house elves said it wouldn’t be a problem. I know of a couple of rooms I think would serve. I figure we can take a look at them and you can tell me what you think. In fact, we can do it now, if you like. We’ve a little time before dinner. The actual welcome party won’t be till after dinner.”

“Sounds good. Wow. It’s a good thing you knew house elves could do stuff like that.” 

“Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Harry! Where are you going?”

All around him, the planning committees sighed. Cho crossed her arms and looked at the approaching girl with obvious irritation.

Harry rolled his eyes and continued towards the door, ignoring Hermione’s increasingly shrill demands that he come back and explain himself. Millicent and Pansy moved into position to guard their retreat when she tried to follow.   
Hannah shut the door firmly behind them, and they all sighed in relief when the sound of Hermione’s cries was cut off as they moved into the hallway. 

“She really needs to get a life.” Harry muttered. “Come on, the first room is just ahead here.”  
   
Harry led everyone to another long, largish room, much like the room the Melting Pot was currently in. 

“I was thinking this could be set up with small tables and games, and then maybe some groups of chairs for the quidditch fans to gather around. The Melting Pot, part II if you would.”

“Looks good. Are you sure we’re going to be able to find enough furniture for it? I mean, yeah, the castle is huge, but surely there isn’t an endless supply of furniture.”  
“You’d be surprised. I’m pretty we sure we can furnish all the extra rooms we grab without really making a dent in what’s just lying around in the unused corners. There’s a thousand years of stuff piled up here, remember.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Are we all agreed?”

“Yeah, it looks good.”

“Itsy?”

“Young sir is calling?”

“Yeah, this one. It can wait until tonight after we go to bed. There’s no rush.”

“Itsy will remember.”

“Thanks, Itsy.”

“You is being welcome, young sir.” 

“Alright, next room is down this way…”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Melting Pot expands and the kids continue their plans, Harry takes steps to protect himself from the plot he suspects.

“Harry! There you are! Where have you been? Dinner is half over! We were supposed to have a party today at the Melting Pot and you all just left!”

“The party is after dinner, and everyone knows that.” Harry sighed as he took his seat. “Why are you talking to me again? If all you’re going to do is start up with the bitching and lecturing again, I really wish you’d go back to ignoring me.” 

He glanced at the seat next to him, and found Ginny Weasley, red faced and staring intently at her plate. Harry nudged her, and the girl looked up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

“Could you swap seats with Neville? I need to talk to him.” 

Ginny’s face fell, and she glared at Neville when he swapped their plates and then stood behind her expectantly. She cast a reproachful look Harry’s way, and then grudgingly slid down a seat, allowing Neville to take the seat she’d just been in.

_“Why no save seat?”_ Harry signed in their secret code language.  
 _“Did. Red girl stole it.”  
“Typical.”_

“I thought you needed to talk to Neville.” Hermione sniped.

“I do. I’m being considerate by allowing him to eat first. I’d like to eat as well.” Harry agreed placidly. 

“So where were you earlier anyway?” Ron asked as he started loading up with seconds.

“We’re expanding the Melting Pot to make room for the new first years. We were scouting out the new digs. I’m afraid the party tonight is going to be a bit crowded; none of the new rooms are going to be prepared until tonight when we’re all sleeping. The house elves are busy during the day, and I didn’t want to pull them away from their actual duties.”

“You shouldn’t be piling work on the poor little things!” Hermione scolded.

“They’re house elves.” Neville pointed out. “They like to work. In fact, they despise weakness of any sort—they take on extra work like a badge of honor. It makes them happy.”

“They’re slaves!”

“Don’t let them hear you say that. They’ll probably wallop you. They certainly don’t consider themselves slaves, they’re part of the family, and the place they live and work in is their home.”

“It isn’t right! I don’t intend to stand for it.” Hermione sniffed.

“So…what you’re saying is that you intend for the house elves to completely overturn their entire culture and way of life, because it offends your delicate sensibilities…and to hell with how they or anyone else feels about it. Is that it?” Harry clarified.

“Of course not. I’m going to save them, because it’s wrong.” 

“What makes you the arbiter of right and wrong? Have you ever even talked to any of them? Nevermind, I know you haven’t—or if you have, you completely ignored anything they had to say because it didn’t agree with what you’d already decided.”

Silently, Harry sent Neville a message. _“Tell teacher before kills elves.”_  
   
The welcome party went off without a hitch, though they didn’t have time to do much beyond a game of ‘truth or dare’ due to there being so many people present. The elves had put up some streamers and a welcome banner while they were all at dinner, so they place was looking quite festive. They had also set out a couple of trays of little cakes, and some pitchers of juice for the kids to snack on while they were socializing. Towards the end of the night, the planning committees also unveiled their plans for the future of the clubhouse.

“Tonight, while we’re all asleep, the elves are going to be busy moving a couple of doors for us.”

“Moving doors? Huh?”

“I asked them earlier about something I saw one of the house elves do at my godfather’s house. He took a door and switched it out for a door that was already there, and the room it went to followed it. I asked if the elves here could do that and they said they could. Essentially, what’s going to happen tonight is that a bunch of doors are going to be placed on the walls around the room. Seven, to be exact.”

“Why so many?”

“We figured we’d split up this room into two to start with. Gaming tables and quidditch talk will now be in the new game room It’s basically just a big, plain room like this one. The other rooms are going to be for different clubs. All the folks who really got into the puppet stuff we were doing last year were talking about maybe doing shows, building sets and fancier puppets. Well, now they’re going to have space to do all that. All the folks who liked project corner are going to have a room to keep their projects in, store their notes and research while they’re working on something. There were a couple of folks knocking around the idea of a school newspaper, newsletter or magazine. We found a couple of printing presses that were in storage, and we have a budding photographer among us—one who knows how to develop pictures. We also have Luna here, who’s dad is the editor of the Quibbler, so I’m sure she’ll have lots of helpful advice and ideas about getting a paper off the ground. If there’s a couple of people who want to do different things, well, we have the presses; I’m sure we could manage to churn out a couple of different types of publication if it comes down to it. There was also talk last year of an artist’s studio. Well, we’ve now got space for that too. We figure anyone who wants to do something artistic can hang out with all the other artistic types, trade tips, work on projects, and have someplace to keep them while they’re working on them.”

“Alright, that’s five. What are the other two for?”

“They’re saunas. Apparently they used to be quite the thing back when Hogwarts first was built. Old sauna rooms are scattered all over, but they haven’t been used in years and years. We didn’t even know what the rooms were for when we stumbled across the first one. The elves had to tell us. We talked about it, and thought, you know, that would be kind of cool. We asked if they still worked, and if they knew how to run them, and they said they did. So anyway, long story short, we got two—one for the boys, one for the girls. There’s a changing room first, with cubicles to hold your stuff, and then the second room is full of benches going up the walls. There’s a third room too. It’s full of snow so you can cool down after. Neat, huh? The elves are going to tidy all the rooms up, and stock the saunas with towels. We have some tables, desks, chairs and comfy furniture earmarked to be delivered as well. So, tomorrow, after classes, we’ll be decorating the new clubhouses and working out the details on all the new clubs. Sound good?”

The deafening roar of approval that met Harry’s words was all the answer he needed.   
   
 

 

When Harry woke the following morning, he did his usual morning exercise routine. Once he was finished, instead of doing independent research on whatever suited his fancy at the moment, he settled down for some practice. 

He’d gotten Barty, Remus and Sirius at different points during the summer to explain conjuring to him. Conjuring wasn’t just creating something from nothing, as he’d at first thought—it was actually pulling something from elsewhere and manifesting it from your wand. That was the reason there were so many restrictions on it. In the past, wizards had angered muggle neighbors by stealing the milk from their cow’s udders, the eggs from beneath their chickens, their vegetables from out of the ground. Conjuring was the reason muggles thought the presence of a witch in the area caused crops to wither, cows to run dry and hens to not lay. They never realized they were accidentally stealing all that stuff; they assumed whatever pact they’d made with the devil was making the world around them infertile, because it was an offense against god and man. It was the main reason the witch-hunts had swept across the land the way they had. The muggles convinced themselves that the witches had to die at the hands of good Christians in order to restore the natural order and to get God to smile upon them and shower them with blessings once more.

In the very early morning, the castle was locked down. There was no easy way in or out. While it was true Harry’s ninja skills would allow him to get around that restriction, it was just too risky—he could be detected, and then he’d have a lot of people asking him a lot of questions about the hows and whys. During class time he was out on the grounds, but he was always surrounded by his fellow students and the occasional teacher. After classes he was at the Melting Pot, and was again constantly surrounded. He could try to leave, but he knew full well Hermione would pitch a fit and loudly demand to know where he was going and what he was planning on doing. He didn’t want to explain that he needed to borrow a rooster so he could safely dispose of a possible basilisk in a legendary hidden chamber, just in case. 

Conjuring one of the roosters within the castle would allow him to get around all the troublesome restrictions he normally found himself under. 

He kind of hoped the basilisk was dead—he didn’t want to kill the thing if it wasn’t. However, he would if he had to. Lockhart was an idiot, and Voldemort had a lot of malfunctions—if he left the thing alive, he just knew that somehow someone was going end up dead. It was really for the best that he simply remove the possibility, and keep an eye on the chamber, before any such tragedy arose.   
 

   
When he arrived at breakfast, he found Hermione already seated, breakfast ignored in favor of a book. This was not an unusual situation; what was unusual was that instead of a large, dusty tome from the library, it was a shiny new book—by Gilderoy Lockhart. 

“Isn’t it so exciting? We’re finally going to have Professor Lockhart’s class today!”

“What do you mean finally? It’s only the second day of school.”

“Well yes, but I’ve been waiting impatiently since this summer. He’s a great hero, professor Lockhart is. I’m sure we’ll learn a lot from him.”

“Morning.” Ron muttered as he climbed onto the bench. Slowly the table began filling up as the rest of their housemates came down for breakfast.

“What are you reading?” Neville asked as he began filling his plate.

“She’s reading one of Lockhart’s books.” Harry answered derisively.

“Oh, that’s right…we’ve got him today, don’t we?’

“I can’t wait. I’ve been reading his books. He’s quite a guy.” Seamus enthused. “Just a regular bloke, but he really gets the job done.” 

“Have you even read any of the books? You’re going to be completely unprepared, you know. You’ll probably fail.” 

Harry thought Hermione sounded just a little too delighted at the prospect of him failing a class, especially one that he’d come out on top in the year before. She still hadn’t forgiven him for beating her there—or Neville for beating her out in Herbology, or Draco for Potions.

Harry rolled his eyes at her and dug out his pile of Lockhart books from his pouch, as well as a piece of parchment. He placed the parchment on top of the pile and tapped it with his wand.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting a list of all the spells in the books. I intend to be top of the class in DADA again.” He added for Hermione’s benefit. She didn’t appreciate the sentiment much, to judge by the dirty look she gave him. 

When the list on the parchment finished, he packed away Lockhart’s books and pulled out another.

“What’s that?”

“Barty gave it to me. He said Lockhart’s books are all adventure novels, and so they’re probably not going to cover the stuff we need to cover for the second year curriculum. He said this book has the stuff we’re supposed to be learning.” Harry explained. 

He flipped to the index and began going down the list generated on the parchment to see if any of the spells listed were in it. 

Lavender, who was seated next to him, peered at the list he’d made and suddenly laughed.

“That’s not a DADA spell, that’s a spell to take wrinkles out of your clothes!”

“Let me see.” Parvati asked, turning the page so they could both look at it.

“This freshens your breath.” She pointed.

“This polishes your teeth!”

“This one takes static out of your hair!” 

The two girls started laughing. 

“Wow, we’re going to ace DADA this year!”   
“Sorry Hermione, looks like we’re going to be in the top spot this year. Maybe next year, huh?” 

Hermione sputtered and looked rather affronted by the very idea. 

“It looks like we’re going to have to study on our own if we want to pass our DADA OWL fifth year. I guess we’ll have to make sure the stuff in this book gets added to Interrogation when we’re ready to study for our exams.” 

Neville pulled out his phone, studied it for a moment, took a deep breath, and then dialed Hannah Abbot.

_“Hello…um, Hannah? It’s Neville. Yeah, hi. Oh, nothing much really…we were just looking at the books Lockhart assigned and they’re not really going to cover the proper second year curriculum…”_

“What’s he doing?” Ron asked, while eyeing the phone with an air of bewilderment. He'd seen people with them last night as well.

“Talking to Hannah Abbot, obviously.” Harry replied.

Ron craned his head to look over at the Hufflepuff table, and saw Hannah had a similar contraption that she was talking into.

“What is that thing?”

“It’s a cell phone.”

“Is that anything like a fellytone?”

“A what?” Hermione laughed. “You mean a telephone?”

“Yeah, ‘s what I said.”

“No, Ron, you said fellytone.” Dean laughed.

“Where’d he get that thing anyway?”

“At the Finch-Fletchley party.”

“What? Justin had a party and I wasn’t invited? What gives? I thought we were mates. I played gobstones with him a couple of times when he said he didn’t feel like playing chess!”

“It was a party for the incoming muggleborn. That’s how I knew Colin. He was there, along with his little brother Dennis. He’ll probably be along next year.”

“Neville’s not a muggleborn, and neither are you!” 

“I went shopping with them last year. We ran into Neville and his gran and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley invited them along. It would have been rude to leave them out this year.”

“Hannah Abbot isn’t muggleborn either!”

“No, but she is a Hufflepuff; Justin invited most of his year mates so the new muggleborn would know people.” 

“And everyone at the party got a fellytone?”

“A cell phone, and no, not everyone, just the people who bought them. Katie Bell’s dads sell them.”

“Katie Bell isn’t muggleborn either! She’s a half blood!” 

“She came with her dads, who were invited because they sold cell phones. A lot of the muggle parents of students are a bit uncomfortable receiving post by owl.”

Ron stared at him as though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would object to such a thing.

“It’s normal in the wizarding world, but not in the muggle world. It’s a bit hard to explain to the neighbors why owls keep bringing you letters all the time. We realized that the muggleborn students having a phone would be an ideal way for them to keep in touch with their families in a way that would be more comfortable and familiar for them.”

“Neville and Hannah aren’t muggleborn--they don’t have muggle families to keep in touch with!”

“Well, no, but they do have muggleborn friends.” 

“But they’re at school with them! Why do they need a fellytone?”

“What’s the big deal, mate?” Dean wondered. “No need to take it as a personal offense.” 

“I don’t see why everyone can’t just send owls like normal people.” 

“Harry just explained that. I know my mum is happy to not have to be answering awkward questions about owls anymore.” Hermione scolded.

“How do muggles get their mail then?”

“The mailman delivers it.” Dean explained.

“Muggles are so weird. Why do they want to run around pretending to be owls?”

Dean stared at Ron blankly for a long moment and then sighed. “They don’t pretend to be owls, Ron. They’re just folks who deliver mail for a living.”

“Still, has to be pretty depressing, making your living by being an owl. Even if they are just muggles, that has to be sorta soul-crushing, doesn’t it?”

Dean shook his head. “I give up.” He decided.

 

   
The bell rang and everyone began finishing their breakfast. Hermione closed her book and hurried off to Gryffindor to get her books, as did Lavender and Parvati, Ron, the first years, and most of the upper years. Harry looked around at his remaining roommates, and the scattered number of students at the other tables.

“Took a page out of your book, mate. I got myself one of those bottomless pouches, and loaded it up with all me books and school supplies. It does make things simpler. I dunno why they don’t put it on the school lists as a suggestion; it works a treat better than lugging around a full-sized satchel all day.” Seamus explained. “I’ve even got me broom shoved in there!”

“Yeah? Me too.” Harry agreed. “It’s good to be a second year. Those school brooms they had us learning on last year are awful.”

“Lucky blokes. I didn’t get one.” Dean lamented.

“You can borrow mine, if you like. I’ve got one, but I’m still not too keen on flying.” Neville offered.

“We’ve got to get you over that block, Nev. This weekend we should go flying.”

“I don’t really…”

“For a short time at least. Dean can take over from there. We’ll ease you into it, get you comfortable and whatnot. Once you are, you’ll see it’s a lot of fun.”

“I’m not real fond of heights.”

“I know, and I’m not going to force you to do any stunts or anything. You need to learn to trust that the broom will hold you and respond to your will. Once you’ve got that down, it should be a lot less nerve-wracking, even if you’re still off the ground. It’s too useful a skill to let it go to waste.”

Neville still looked nervous, but he nodded bravely and straightened his shoulders. “Alright. I’ll do it. No sense letting the nice broom gran got me go to waste, right?”

“That’s the spirit, Nev. We’ll have you racing the clouds in no time.” 

The second bell rang, and the boys groaned, rising from their seats. “Guess we’d best be off.”  
 

 

   
“Welcome, students to Defense against the dark arts. I am your professor, Gilderoy Lockhart.” Lockhart posed—he was wearing magenta with gold embroidery today. His golden hair fell about his shoulders in a cascade of curls, and his teeth sparkled in the light when he smiled. 

“Bloody peacock” Harry muttered under his breath, which caused Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville who were seated nearby to snigger, and Hermione, Parvati and Lavender to turn and glare at him reproachfully, before turning back to hang on Lockhart’s every word.

“To get started, I’ve prepared a small test to see how well you remember what you’ve read in your textbooks. After we’ve finished that, I have a special treat for all of you—a dangerous magical creature that you’ll all be learning to defend yourselves against.”

A stir of excitement went through the class at his words—most thought he was already shaping up to be a better teacher than Quirrel.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad.” Ron whispered as he took his test and passed the rest of the pile down the table.

Harry flipped over his test and scanned the list of questions. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” he whispered back. 

“What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color? What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s dream? What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite cologne? What the bloody hell is this?” Ron hissed under his breath. 

They heard the sound of a quill on parchment, and turned to find Seamus busily filling out his test. 

“This is brilliant” Seamus confided quietly. “This’ll probably be my first ‘o’ in this class!”   
   
Harry shook his head as he continued flipping through Lockhart’s ‘little test’—it was three pages, and 54 questions long, and every question dealt with Lockhart himself, not any aspect of DADA. He rolled up the test and slipped it into his pouch. Ron glanced up from his own test and raised an eyebrow in inquiry, but Harry just shook his head and remained silent. 

“Alright! Time’s up! Pass down your papers! Let’s see how you’ve all done!” Lockhart enthused as he gathered up the papers. Once he had them all in hand, he strode to the front of the room and perched on the edge of his desk to begin flipping through them.

“Good…good…oh, my! Someone needs to re-read “Magical Me” he tutted. “My favorite color, as everyone should know, is periwinkle, not lime green. It’s a terrible color for me –makes me look a bit sallow, you know.” He continued flipping through and shook his head despairingly. “My dream is not to get a better personality” he tutted “it’s to unite all peoples magical and muggle and institute world peace. Barring that, I’d like to one day own my own line of hair-care products.” 

He fixed them with another blinding smile, set the papers aside and clapped his hands. 

“Now, onto the practical portion of our class. I’m going to be introducing you to a wily, dangerous creature. Never fear though, I am here!”

By this point the class was holding its breath, speculating on what sort of creature he had brought for them to battle. He moved to a covered cage off to the side of the room, fixed them all with a stern glare, and whipped off the cover to reveal….a multitude of six inch high blue Cornish pixies.

“Pixies!” Ron scoffed. “This is the dangerous creature you brought for us?”

Titters began traveling around the room as the pixies began flying around in their cage, sticking out their tongues at everyone and making rude gestures at Lockhart. 

“Don’t let their small size fool you!” Lockhart warned. “They’re wily, and devilishly tricksy! You wouldn’t need to learn to defend yourself against them if they weren’t!” 

He released the catch on the door and the whole swarm shot out of the cage and spread out around the room. A couple went for Lockhart and began pulling at his hair and nose. Another bunch began grabbing books, ink bottles and piles of papers around the room and began chucking them at people. The students scattered from their seats, many of them screaming as the pixies ranged out of control.   
Lockhart wasn’t faring much better than the students; he managed to tear them off his face and stumbled back looking panicked, while flailing his wand and shouting “Pesterpiksi Pesteromi!” Which did absolutely nothing that Harry could see.   
   
Harry began digging in his pockets, while racking his brain to remember everything he could about pixies. Like most fairies, they loved being the center of attention. If something took people’s attention off them, they would attack the thing to drive it off so they could once again take center stage. 

A couple of pixies came and grabbed Neville, one by each ear, and began lifting him out of his seat—they were strong little buggers. Harry and Hermione each hit one with a freezing charm, and Neville dropped into his seat with a wince as he clutched his abused ears. 

Harry finally found what he’d been looking for-a firecracker—and tossed it to the far end of the room. It went off with a bang and formed a colorful flower arrangement. As expected, everyone turned to look at it, and away from the pixies. The pixies hissed in rage and formed into a mass to go kill the intruding flower. Hermione seemed to realize what he was doing and stood ready with him till they’d formed a compact bundle. They cast a second freezing charm in unison, immobilizing the pack in mid-air.  
   
Lockhart quickly straightened and tried to fix his disheveled appearance. He did his best to rally and fixed another blinding smile on his face. 

“Well done, you two! Ten points to Gryffindor! As you can see, they can indeed be quite troublesome, should you stumble upon them unaware. Now that you’ve seen how to properly subdue them, why don’t you all go and fetch yourselves a pixie? You can practice subduing them one on one for the rest of the class. Now…who knows how to reverse what was done to them?”

Hermione bounced on her toes and began waving her hand in the air.

“Yes! Miss…?”

“Granger, sir. Hermione Granger. The proper reversal for the freezing charm is finite incantatum.”

“And the incantation for the charm?”

“Immobilus!”

“Excellent, take another five points for Gryffindor. In fact, why don’t you act as my assistant? You can help those of your classmates that are having trouble.” He flashed another blinding smile; Hermione flushed pink, and all but melted into a puddle of goo. She shot a smug look Harry’s way and strutted off to plant herself next to Lockhart. 

 Harry suddenly wondered if being ‘assistant DADA teacher’ would make Hermione fall under the curse as well. He had no idea what the parameters of the curse were—he couldn’t even get a straight answer as to whether there really was a curse; most said there was a ‘rumor’ because of the string of bad luck that seemed to plague the DADA teachers for the last forty years or so. He really needed to see if he could find out what happened to the past DADA teachers. Quirrel died by suddenly rotting away at the end of the year. Did all the teachers meet such a gruesome end? If so, he really needed to try to get working on locating the curse. Hermione was smug, controlling, and an insufferable know-it-all…but she didn’t annoy him so much that he wanted her to rot away. 

“So much to do, so little time.”

“Eh? You say something mate?”

“No. I didn’t say anything. I was just wishing he’d get on with the lesson.” 

“I’ve already learned something.”

“Yeah, what’s that Ron?”

“Don’t set a swarm of pixies loose in a small room with an idiot.”

“Sound advice there. It should serve you well in life.”

“Yeah. Who says the stuff you learn in school is useless.”  
   
 

 

When everyone gathered at the Melting Pot that evening after dinner, Lockhart’s classes were the talk of the evening.

“So you see, you were complaining about nothing. Professor Lockhart is a heroic, knowledgeable person. I’m sure we’re going to learn a lot from him this year.” 

“Hermione, did it escape your notice that he was about two seconds from running out the door when I threw that firecracker. He was going to run out and leave us to deal with his mess. In fact, we did deal with his mess. What did he do afterwards? He made you tell him how to stop the things, and even what the incantations were. I’ll admit I complained about him a lot…but you know what? It’s far worse than I ever dared imagine! I was willing to credit him with basic competence as a wizard, and I also assumed he would have at least basic knowledge on how to deal with various beasties and pests, if only due to the research I had assumed he must have done on his books. I’m no longer willing to credit him with even that much. He had you take over the class for him!” Harry spluttered.

“You all got off lucky, by the sound of it. He tried subduing the pixies in our class and it didn’t work. They smashed up the place and we had to flee for our lives!” Colin said with a shudder.

“Did you get a test on ‘Magical Me’?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So did we. It was all questions about him…not a single question about what we learned last year, and not a single thing pertaining to the second year curriculum.”

“He gave us that test too.” Cho admitted.   
“Then he had us act out scenes from his book. It was sort of amusing at first, but we never did do anything actually DADA related.” Marietta Edgecombe spoke up, soliciting nods from the other third years.

“It’s not as big a deal for us…but what about the kids sitting for their OWLs and NEWTs this year? It’ll be a miracle if any of them manages to pass…well, I suppose the dedicated self-study folks will scrape by. The kids depending on the teacher to lead the way are all going to fail.” Harry realized.

There was a horrified ripple among the Ravenclaws at the very idea. 

“I kept my test. I’m going to go talk to McGonagall later about making him actually cover the curriculum. I’m not paying tuition for Hogwarts to learn what that prancing peacock’s favorite color, cologne and flavor of ice cream is! I mean, seriously, was that supposed to be a test or a match-up for a dating service?” 

Harry’s grumbling elicited a wave of titters from the rest of the kids there. “You know what? We’ve all wasted enough time on “Professor Lockhart”. Let’s get the clubhouse set up and we can complain about him afterwards. Sound good?”  
 

 

The kids split up into groups into the various rooms that were now part of the Melting Pot. The different rooms had been cleaned and cleared, and a pile of furnishings culled from different parts of the castle had been left in heaps in the center of each floor. The original room had to be rearranged to account for all the doors now peppering the walls, the rest needed to be set up for the first time. 

They had found long tables and easels for the art club, long tables, smaller tables for the printing presses, desks and chairs for the printing club, tables and chairs and a few couches for the game room to accommodate those playing games as well as those talking quidditch… There was a lot to do, and they only had a short time to get everything finished. There never seemed to be enough hours after dinner and before curfew.   
   
Set up of the new club headquarters was going well, but they were having problems rearranging the original Melting Pot in a way that didn’t leave the chairs in the way of all the doors; there were enough that it was almost impossible to set up all the chairs in a way that didn’t leave them in the way of traffic to and from the clubs, the saunas or from the room to the hallway. 

“You know what guys? Maybe we should just give this up as a bad deal, and make it an entryway-slash-room for parties.” Susan spoke up.

“What do you mean?”

“We put a couple of benches or something out here, and a couple of long tables. During normal operations, if any of the clubs have flyers or announcements or anything, they can leave them out here for everyone to see. When we’re having parties, the tables will be for the snacks, drinks and transfigurables. Everyone will be left standing, but we can deal. When it’s interrogation time, we can set up chairs for the audience and split the games between here and the game room. Everyone will likely be taking part, so it won’t matter too much if a lot of the doors are blocked for a short time. We can use the room for lubbatch games for the first years too. See? Sort of a general all-purpose room.” she explained.

“What about the Melting Pot then?” Theo wondered.

“I say we find another room and connect it to the game room and just have that be the new Melting Pot.” 

The others exchanged glances and nodded. “Alright, let’s do that then. Do you know of another good room we could swipe?” they asked Harry.

“Well…there’s a room not far from here. The main room isn’t quite as big as this one is, but there’ll be fewer people in it usually, so that won’t be such a big deal. There’s also an upstairs.”

“An upstairs?”

“Yeah, it must have been teacher’s quarters or something. It’s empty at the moment, though there is a working bathroom in there.”

“That would be nice. It’s always a pain having to run off and find a bathroom from here.”

“Doesn’t the printing room have an upstairs?”

“Does it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, the printing room and the puppet room both do. Yes, they have bathrooms as well. That will give us three within easy reach.” Harry agreed.

“I think it sounds good, let’s do it.” 

“Allright, I’ll go get the other room, I guess all of you should start gathering the furniture and decorations in the center of the room. I’ll look for some more long tables while I’m out too…maybe some more decorations. This room will be rather plain otherwise.”

“Oi, Harry!”

“Yeah Dean?”

“The puppet room has an upstairs! Why doesn’t the art room have an upstairs?”

“You want one?”

“Yeah. A lot of people joined the art club. We’re going to need space to store old projects and stuff, or it’ll get pretty crowded pretty fast.”

“Alright, I see if I can find another room with an upstairs. I guess move out the stuff and put it in a pile in the front room.”

“We want an upstairs too. It’s not fair if we’re the only ones without.”

“Alright, geez. I’ll go look, alright. Put your stuff in a pile out here too and I’ll be back.”

Harry stepped out into the hall, and called his faithful little house elf friend Itsy. 

“You is calling?”

“Yeah…do you know of three empty classrooms with an upstairs that we could swap out for some of the rooms here?”

Itsy cocked her head and slowly nodded. “Yes, I is knowing some.” 

“Okay, could you put back the doors for the two rooms in the center there and bring the doors for the other rooms and put them in their place, and then put the third door off the long regular room at the end? The kids will show you where if I’m not being clear. I need to go find some long tables and some more decorations.”

“Sure, Itsy will get right on it!”

“Thanks, Itsy, you’re really a great help. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Itsy beamed—house elves liked nothing more than to know their work was appreciated—and then popped off to start rearranging rooms.  
   
Somehow, they managed to get everything arranged more or less to their satisfaction before the warning bell for curfew rang. There were enough people around, that there was no end of willing hands ready to pitch in. They even had time to put together a committee to decorate all the doors to indicate what lay within, and made up a schedule for group pictures to commemorate the founding of all the new clubs. Everyone was in high spirits by the time they left that evening. They had their facilities set up, now they were eager to see what they could do with them.   
 

 

The following morning, Harry forwent his usual workout. He had a mission to complete.  
 __  
“Comfy clothes, check. Wand, check. Ability to conjure a rooster on command, check. Alright…looks like I’m ready. Gosh I hope the basilisk is dead. Dead and decomposed, preferably. It would be just my luck I have the rooster take it out and go to check, only to find out its eyes can still kill you even when it’s dead. I’ll just be down in the chamber forever, and no one will ever know what became of me. Maybe I should leave a note? No…better not. It would be just my luck someone will wake up early, discover the note, and go running off all hysterical to rouse the castle. Knowing the way things go sometimes, even if the note clearly said I was heading off to kill the basilisk so it couldn’t be used to frame me for misdeeds, it would somehow become that I was heading off to fetch the basilisk to kill everyone by breakfast time. I’ll just have to take my chances and be careful.”  
 

   
“Oi! Harry! You’re just getting here?”

“Huh? Yeah. Got sidetracked.” Harry explained as he began loading up his plate. 

“Sidetracked? Why? What were you doing?” Hermione demanded.

“This and that. Could someone pass the toast?”

“What kind of this and that?”

“Do you want to be silenced again? I don’t appreciate being interrogated first thing in the morning—or any other time of day for that matter. Mind your own business.” 

“Just charms today” Neville interjected cheerfully to derail the rant that was obviously building in Hermione “and then we’ve the rest of the afternoon and the whole weekend.” 

“Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow. I’d prefer keeper, but if seeker’s all that’s available, I’ll take that over nothing.” Ron spoke up.

“I’m gonna try out as well.” Dean added.

“Yeah, me too. Why not, right?” said Seamus.

“How about you, Harry? You’re a really good flyer. You’d probably be a shoo-in.” Parvati offered.

“Nah. I like flying, but I don’t have any real desire to be on the team.”

“You’re not trying out? Oliver’s not going to like that.” George Weasley commented from nearby.

“There are other second years besides me. How about you, Lavender? Are you going to try out?”

“Me?” Lavender asked, sounding surprised.

“Well, yeah, why not? You’re a good flyer too…so are you Parvati.”

Parvati wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Nah, it’s not for me.”

Lavender, on the other hand, looked oddly inspired. “I never even really thought about it, to be honest… Do you think I should?” she asked Parvati.

Parvati shrugged and smiled. “I guess, if you want to. Why not?”

“Do you think I have a chance?”

“No way of knowing unless you try, right? Go for it. If you don’t do it now, you’ll always wonder if you might have made the team if you’d just tried out.” Harry pointed out.

“You’re right…I’m going to do it!” 

“That’s pretty much my thinking. I don’t know if I’ll get it, but it seems silly to not even try out.” Dean agreed.

“I hate to say it mates, but Weasleys have quidditch in their blood.” Ron bragged.

“I guess I should try out then.” Ginny piped up, only to turn bright red when everyone looked at her.

“You’re a first year, and you don’t know how to play!” Ron laughed. “You’ve never even been on a broom before!”

“I have so! I used to smuggle out a broom when everyone was sleeping and go flying all the time!”

“What? You’re mental.” Ron scoffed.

“It’s true! And I’m good! Better than you!” she added scathingly.

“Big talk, little sister, but the fact remains you’re a first year. First years aren’t allowed.” Ginny huffed and turned back to her breakfast, stabbing it angrily with her fork.   
   
 

“Good luck, everyone!” Harry called out after the mass of second years that were trooping out the door on their way to quidditch try-outs.

“Aren’t you coming, Harry?”

“I’ll be along later.”

“Oh, if you’re going to be bu-SY! Neville! Parvati! Let go of me!” Hermione shrieked.

“Come along, Hermione. We don’t want to miss the tryouts!” Parvati cooed mockingly. Harry gave her a little wave as they marched out the door. 

“Hello, Harry Potter.” 

“Hello, Luna Lovegood. You really don’t have to be so formal.”

“What should I call you then?”

“Harry is good…or Bob if you feel that’s too restrictive.”

“Alright, Bob. You said you needed my help with something?”

“Yep. We’re still waiting for one more person though…and speak of the devil.”

Luna turned and peered at the approaching Colin with interest. 

“He doesn’t look like a devil. Are you sure you haven’t been misinformed?”

“He’s laying low. Prejudice, you know. Terrible thing.” 

Luna nodded thoughtfully.

“Hiya Harry! Hi Luna! So where are we going, huh?”

“Don’t worry Colin, I won’t discriminate against you because of your condition.”

Colin blinked and looked at her oddly. “Uh…okay?”

Luna nodded and turned back to Harry expectantly. 

“Alright, follow me. We’re going to take a little walk, and at the end of it, you’ll see something neat, learn a little about history, get some cool pictures, and possibly an interesting story for the Quibbler. The only thing I ask in return is that you keep mum until everything is widely circulated, as I believe someone may be plotting against me.”

Colin looked a bit startled at the idea that someone might be plotting against him, but he agreed readily enough.

“Is it the Rotfang Conspiracy by any chance?”

“What’s that then?”

“Oh, you might not have heard about it yet. I think it might be coming out in next month’s issue.”

“I’ll look forward to it then.”   
 

Harry led them on a meandering path through the halls, before eventually leading them to a little-used corner of the castle and calling them to a halt. Luna still looked unperturbed, but Colin was looking rather bewildered. 

“Alright, now I’m going to ask you to trust me for a bit. I need you to put these on.” 

He held up two blindfolds.

Colin took it dubiously, but Luna put hers on without complaint. Seeing this, Colin sighed and put his on as well. Harry linked arms with both of them and led them the rest of the way down the hall and around a corner to where a come and go room entrance was. “Just stand there for a second.” Harry ordered. He paced back and forth, and a door with several noisy locks appeared. He unlatched them one by one and swung the door open. He could see both of them straining their ears to figure out what was going on. He led them into a room filled with ramped platforms and other paraphernalia and shut the door, latching the many locks once more. He linked their arms again and spoke up to reassure Colin, who was beginning to look distinctly nervous.

“This isn’t a prelude to some sort of mean trick, if that’s what you’re worried about. Come on. The way slopes a bit so hang on to me. He led them up a sloped platform, across a level spot, down another slope and then walked them in a meandering path through the rest of the room, stopping occasionally to pull a rusty chain on a pulley, tap some chimes, open creaking doors, or toss heavy stones into water—all helpfully provided by the room. 

Luna still looked unperturbed, but Colin was by now vibrating with excitement. He was certain that wherever they were going was going to have to be cool for the way to be so complicated and so heavily guarded. 

He led the two of them back to the door—a plain door this time, without any locks, creaking or otherwise, told them to stay put and opened it. Instead of the cavern he was expecting, it was the lowest level of the dungeons.

Harry shut the door and sighed, while placing his palm against the wall of the come and go room. 

“Come on Hogwarts. I’ve led them all this way. You know perfectly well it’s safe. I checked everything out yesterday to make sure!”

There was no answer in words, but Harry did get the distinct feeling the castle was telling him no.

“I know there’s a security feature…can’t you make an exception just this once?” 

There was a flicker that almost felt like indecision, and then a tentative agreement.

“Thank you Hogwarts! You’ll see, we’ll all three be perfectly fine.” 

There was another flicker, and Harry got the distinct impression the castle was telling him it would be just that once, and not to ask again.

“I won’t, promise. I’ll honestly have no reason to bring anyone else down there…though it would have made a rather cool clubhouse, you must admit…well, maybe not. It was a bit mucky before I cleaned it up…nevermind.” 

He opened the door, and saw the cavern passageway outside.

He could practically feel Colin and Luna’s curiosity boring into his back, by the time he took them by the hand and began leading them out into the cavern. 

“Alright, you can take off the blindfolds now.” Harry told them once the door back disappeared.  
 

 

“Wh-where are we?” Colin asked while he peered around wildly. “Are we even in the castle anymore?”

“No, we’re not in the castle, though there is a pathway to get back to it. We’re going to go see the legendary Chamber of Secrets.”

“Chamber of Secrets, huh? What’s that? What kind of secrets? How’d you find it?”

Harry started walking and directed them to follow him.

“The Chamber of Secrets was built by Salazar Slytherin back when Hogwarts was founded. It was built to house a basilisk whose purpose was to protect the school from an invading army. There was a lot going on back then. Merlin had just helped king Arthur ascend the throne, and was helping him conquer surrounding kingdoms and add their strength to his own. The plan was to unite the islands into a single kingdom—muggle and wizard, under Arthur, who was a squib. Merlin was to be the power behind the throne, and by virtue of being the high king’s wizard, the default leader of all the witches and wizards in the land…The Founders had other ideas. They didn’t want to be a part of this proposed united kingdom. They were actually urging secrecy and separation centuries before anyone else thought it was either wise or necessary….”   
 

They reached the snake-covered doors and Harry hesitated. He knew he’d already come too far to turn back, but there was a part of him that really didn’t want it getting out that he was a parselmouth—he’d seen firsthand the hysteria and horror that took over people when confronted with anything deemed ‘dark’. He was taking a huge chance here. It might be accepted and overlooked as simply an odd quirk of genetics, and of no real consequence…or it might damn him in the eyes of the public. He had no way of knowing—he could be effectively ending any future he might have in the wizarding world with this one act.

“I’ve been told it sounds very unnerving to hear…I couldn’t tell you. It just sounds like English to me.” Harry told them quietly, before hissing ‘open’. 

Colin was already snapping pictures, and spared only a single, curious glance Harry’s way. Luna looked at him like he was an interesting puzzle that had just appeared beneath her nose, but was otherwise just as calm and unperturbed as she’d been through the whole trip.

The doors slid back silently, revealing the snake-bedecked chamber in all its glory—and it was looking pretty good after the clean-up job he’d done the day before.  
Colin bounced on his toes and hurried inside, snapping pictures every few steps. Luna drifted after him, looking like she was out for a stroll in the woods. As he followed them inside, he wondered idly what it would take to surprise her, or make her change expression.   
   
 

   
“Harry! Harry guess what? I did it! I’m the new seeker for Gryffindor!” 

Harry staggered back as he suddenly had an armful of squealing Lavender Brown. She hugged him and then stepped back, only to start bouncing excitedly on her toes.   
“Thanks so much for convincing me. I never would have tried out otherwise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you won the position on your own merit. Congratulations.”

“Thanks! I’m so excited I can hardly sit still! Imagine…me of all people on the quidditch team!”

“I’m sure you’ll do our house proud.” 

Lavender bit her lip and suddenly looked a bit less excited than she had just minutes before. “Merlin…what if I don’t manage to catch the snitch? Everyone will murder me! Gosh…that’s a lot of pressure.”

“Relax, Lav. Just do your best; no one can ask more of you than that.” Parvati reassured her.

Lavender nodded and put on a brave face. He hoped she could actually manage to keep her head when the game came around; it wouldn’t be pretty if they lost. Oliver Wood was likely to go on a murderous rampage…again. 

“Were you three together all this time?” Hermione demanded.

Harry turned and glanced behind him and saw Hermione eying Luna and Colin with confused suspicion.

“Yes. We were doing something for the Quibbler. We’re going to be collaborating on an article for the November edition.” Luna answered.

Hermione gave Luna a patently false smile and cast a condescending look Harry’s way. 

“Oh…that’s…nice.” 

“I think so.” Luna agreed. “We can’t tell you what it’s about though; we don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“How disappointing.” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. Just like that, she dropped her suspicions; her opinion of the Quibbler was so bad, she hadn’t even attempted a nosy interrogation like she usually would. Harry’s estimation of Luna’s value as an ally shot up by several thousand degrees.   
 

Harry saw someone out of the corner of his eye and found Ginny Weasley there, glaring at Luna suspiciously and fingering her wand. Luna seemed oblivious to both Hermione’s disdain, and Ginny’s murderous intentions. 

“Harry, there you are. We were all beginning to wonder.” 

Harry smiled at Cho, who smiled back. Ginny’s face got redder, and she inched up until she was practically wedged into Harry’s side, before splitting her suspicious stare between Luna and Cho equally. 

Cho raised an eyebrow at Ginny, while Harry stepped forward, which left Ginny staggering a bit as he moved. Cho smiled at her brightly, before turning back to Harry. 

“We were going to have a quick meeting to decide what kind of publications we want to do.”

“Okay, sounds good. Who’s in charge?”

Cho smiled proudly. “I am.”

“Well then, I put myself in your hands. Do with me what you will.” 

Cho giggled, Ginny started to pull her wand, but got distracted when Luna began braiding a turnip into her hair. Hermione mimed gagging herself. Harry and Cho wandered towards the printing club headquarters while they were occupied. Colin followed them, as did Luna once Ginny got away from her. Hermione realized she was being left behind, and hurried off as well. 

   
Hermione seated herself hurriedly in the printing club room, noting with irritation that she was seated on the far outside of the group as all the other chairs were already taken. Cho looked around, smiled nervously, and began to speak.

“Welcome, everyone to the first official meeting of the printing club. I guess first I should thank everyone for electing me as club president. I hope I’ll do a good job…”

She was interrupted by cheers and ‘you’ll do fines’ from the audience. She seemed more confident as she continued. 

“I went through the survey we did about what kinds of things we wanted to do, and one of the things everyone seems to agree on is that we should do a history of the Melting Pot. Harry, I was hoping you’d oversee that, since you were the one who started the whole thing.”

“Sure” Harry agreed easily. “I have a calendar thing that has most of the important highlights noted down, so I should actually be able to do a pretty coherent overview. I’ll make a list from that and then we can have a separate meeting to figure out what we want to include and how we’re going to present it, how’s that?”

“Sounds good. Any volunteers for the Melting Pot history project?”

Several hands went up.

“We probably don’t need too many people on it. There isn’t all that much history to date. It probably isn’t going to take all that long. Anyone who still wants to work on it but doesn’t get picked, if you like you can write up the most recent event, the splitting of the Melting Pot into several sub-groups—the when the who and the why.” Cho offered.

Marietta Edgecomb--a friend of Cho’s who had volunteered to be part of the history group—withdrew her hand. “I can do that. I was part of the expansion committee.”

“Alright, you do that. Harry, Justin and Hannah can oversee the first part.”

“We should set up group pictures for everyone to include. We can have the founding committee, the expansion committee, a group photo of each year, one of each club—that sort of thing.” Hannah suggested.

“Yes, that is a good idea. Colin? Would you be up for that?” 

“Oh sure!” Colin agreed cheerfully.

“We should appoint someone to be keep a list of important highlights over the rest of the year. We can add that stuff later.” Harry added.

“I can do that!” Hermione called loudly, while waving her hand in the air. She wanted to be part of the project, but had so far been passed over because she hadn’t been part of the committees to either set up or expand the place.

Cho glanced at Harry who shrugged. 

“Alright Hermione, you’ll keep a list of highlights to add later.” Cho agreed, writing her name down on the list she was making.

“We can meet as a group at the end of the year, go over the list, divide it up and decide how to present it in the book.” Justin suggested.  
“Yes, that’s a good idea.” Hannah agreed. Hermione didn’t seem too pleased—she’d hoped to have the remainder of the book under her sole control. 

“I have pictures I took in the room last year, of pretty much everyone.” Morag MacDougal, a Ravenclaw, offered. “I don’t have them with me though… they’re in an album at home.”

“Do you still have the film they were taken on?” Colin asked curiously.

“I think so…why?”

“We could print new copies of the pictures to use in the book so you don’t have to take them out of your album.”

“Oh, that would be better. I’m pretty sure it’s still around somewhere. I got it back when I got the pictures back. You know how to develop pictures?”

“Yeah, I found a book on it during my school shopping trip. It’s kinda complicated doing it the muggle way—you need a lot of chemicals and things. It’s much easier doing it with magic. I still have to buy the potion that makes the pictures move though. I tried making it, but it didn’t turn out quite right.”

“I’m pretty good with potions. If you show me how to develop pictures, I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going wrong with the potion.”

“Okay! You’ve got a deal. Do you still have your camera with you?”

“Yeah, actually, it’s in my trunk.” 

“You can help me take pictures for the book and stuff then!”

“Oh, sure. I can do that.” 

While Morag and Colin happily began discussing photography, the meeting moved on.

“Another thing everyone seems to want to do is a literary magazine.” Cho continued.

“We should put up notices in the house common rooms and solicit stories and poetry from the whole school, not just us.” Anthony Goldstein suggested.

“Hey, we can sell the things after they’re printed—people will want a copy if their stuff is published in it.” Daphne Greengrass spoke up next.

“That’s a good idea. We can set up a petty fund for the club to cover the cost of materials for printing. We can’t just take stuff from Hogwarts willy-nilly. Furniture that isn’t being used is one thing—paper and ink that’s going to be used up is different. We have enough supplies right now to keep us going for a bit” Harry agreed.

“Where did they come from anyway if we didn’t get them from Hogwarts?” Tracey Davis wondered.

“That would be me, actually. However, I can’t keep supplying the club by myself. That would get expensive after a while. Selling some of the publications to the school population will solve that problem. We’ll have to come up with a formula to try to get how much we need to cover expenses, without making things so expensive that no one will buy them, while keeping in mind that not everyone will buy copies, so we don’t want to use up what supplies we have printing stuff that will just get thrown out. It’s a pickle, but I’m sure we’ll get the hang of things after we’ve put out a few publications.”

“Alright, who wants to be on the team for the literary magazine?” 

Hands shot up around the room, and Cho began taking names. 

“Alright, a few of the surveys also mentioned possibly making transcripts of the lectures the portraits will be doing, and the debates. Does anyone want to volunteer to do that?”

“How about we just make sure one of us is attending each of them? Whoever is there can be responsible for making a transcript. We can clean them up and print them later.”  
Terry Boot suggested.

“Does everyone agree?” 

There were nods all around. “Alright, we’ll make a definitive list once the schedule for the lectures comes out.” Cho made a note on her clipboard. 

“Alright, the last thing on the list is that some of the other clubs have asked that we make flyers and such for them as needed. We actually already have an order. The puppeteer brigade is hoping to perform a couple of shows during the year. They’re practicing the ‘Fountain of Fair Fortune right now, and building the puppets and sets. So, who wants to make flyers?” 

“I don’t know how to use the printing press.”  
“Neither do I.”  
“I know how. I help daddy sometimes during the summers. It’s not hard.” Luna spoke up.

“Alright then, Luna, I guess show us how it’s done, and we can try doing our first project.” 

Luna hopped out of her seat and drifted over to the tables where the three presses they’d scavenged were held, while everyone gathered around, ready to take notes.

“Maybe our second project should be to print up a helpful how-to guide so that future members can jump right in.” Hannah suggested.

“Good idea. Luna? If you would.” 

“Alright, before anything you want to make sure that your paper is loaded up here, and your ink is loaded up here. It’s easy enough to do…”   
   
 

“Hey, Neville. Where were you at?”

“Puppeteer brigade. We’re designing puppets for a performance.”

“I heard—something about a fountain, right?”

“The Fountain of Fair Fortune.” Neville laughed. “You sound like you’ve never heard of it before.”

“I haven’t.”

“What? I know the muggleborns said they hadn’t heard of it, but you’re wizard-born!”

“Raised by muggles.”

“Oh…right. It’s funny, but I always forget that.” 

“So…this fountain story, is it famous?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I guess you could say so. It’s one of the stories that probably all wizard kids know, from ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’. “

“Tales of the Beedle the Bard, huh? I’ll have to look for it when I go home for the holidays.”

“I’m sure your godfather has a copy, I’d be really surprised if he didn’t, actually.”

Harry nodded and changed the subject as they approached the entrance to the great hall.

“You ready to fly later?”

Neville nodded, though he didn’t look too confident.

“Ah, don’t be like that. It’ll be fine, you’ll see. You got through flying lessons in one piece, after that first mishap. You just have to remember to be confident, and to trust in the magic. It’s like a horse—if you’re scared and uncertain, it responds that way.”

“If you say so.” Neville muttered.

“Relax. Just eat and enjoy your lunch. Don’t think about it right now. If you really feel you need it, I have a calming draught in my pocket that you can take before we go out.”

“That would be pathetic. I’ll try to do without.”

“Good man.”

 “We still on for later?” Seamus asked as they sat down.

“Most definitely—Neville’s in the zone, as you can see.”

Dean and Seamus looked at Neville, who looked slightly ill, and laughed good-naturedly.

“What’s this? What’s going on?” Hermione demanded, while shoving Ron out of the way so she could lean in closer to the rest of them.

“Nothing to interest you. We’re going flying after lunch.” Ron grumbled.

Hermione’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Oh.” She replied before sticking her nose back in the thick book she had with her.

Harry made a mental note to remember this as a Hermione-worthy excuse in the future—‘I’m going flying, and I’m working on something for the Quibbler’ seemed to both work miracles as far as getting her off his back for a bit. Things were looking up.  
 

They were just finishing up their lunch when Ron glanced down the table, stiffened and then started looking up and down the table with an air of shock. “Where’s Ginny?” he demanded.

“I dunno. Was she here earlier?” Harry asked without interest. She hadn’t been staring at him or trying to sit wedged up against him, which was all he cared about.

“She was here till just a few minutes ago after stuffing her face worse than you do.” Hermione sniffed while giving Ron a disapproving stare. “Honestly, I don’t know why your mother lets you behave so atrociously at the table…are you listening to me?” she then called after Ron’s retreating back. Ron wasn’t listening, he was tearing out of the great hall at high speed and shouting Ginny’s name.

“Wonder what that was all about?” Harry asked.

“I should think it’s obvious. Ginny took off early so she could steal Ron’s broom and come flying with us. You heard her bragging the other day about how she was better than Ron. She’s a first year, she’s not allowed to bring her own broom.” Dean explained.

“Aw, how sweet. Harry’s little girlfriend wants to go flying with him. I guess love is truly in the air, right?” Seamus laughed. 

Harry grimaced a bit and rose from his seat. “Let’s go. Ron can deal with his sister.”   
 

 

Around the room, other kids who had heard about the proposed outing were rising from their own seats and drawing brooms from the pouches at their belts as they reached the doors to the outside, while still others were hurrying towards their dormitories to fetch their own brooms. It was strange, but it had honestly never occurred to most of them that they could just go flying for fun whenever they wanted to. For most of them growing up, brooms were so firmly linked in their minds with quidditch, the idea of just flying really didn’t ever cross their minds. For others, living as they did in muggle heavy areas, they had quickly learned that, even if they wanted to go flying for fun, it simply wasn’t to be thought of—the muggles might see them. Upon hearing the proposal to go flying just because they could, it occurred to many of them that this was one of the few places left in the world in which they actually could do so without fear of censure or worries about secrecy. It was an epiphany for many—for others, it made the prospect of returning to their muggle-filled homes later a daunting prospect. For many, having grown up around muggles, things had always been such that their lives and magic had always been curtailed by their presence. It was only now really setting in for most of them how very limiting that was—they had the ability to fly, to bend the laws of space and time, to create wonders…and they couldn’t. It was like living in a world of blind cripples, and being told to cut off one’s legs and gouge out one’s eyes so those so afflicted wouldn’t feel slighted by the fact that your legs and eyes worked fine.   
 

 

“Oi! Dean!” Cormac McLaggan called out belligerently.

“Yeah? What?”

“You don’t have a broom, right? Some Hufflepuff asked Madame Hooch if he could use a school broom and she said yeah. If you head down to the broom shed while they’re still there you should be able to get one too. That goes for the rest of you rotters, if you’re interested. School brooms aren’t much, but they’re better than nothing right?” 

Having said his piece he zoomed off after a couple of his housemates across the grounds. One of the boys had a fanged Frisbee. They seemed to be attempting to combine tossing it with flying on their brooms.   
Dean brightened and hurried across the grounds to where he could see Madame Hooch leading a small parade of students towards the broom shed, with a few others in tow.   
Neville sighed as he watched him go. “Well, there goes my excuse to cut out early.”

“Stop worrying mate, just relax and let yourself fly!” Seamus scolded as he soared past. Harry was mounted on his own broom, and hovering patiently while waiting for Neville to get his courage up.

Neville mounted up as well and rose shakily into the air. Harry grinned at him and poked him in the arm. “You’re it. Try to catch me!” Harry took off towards the lake, chortling as he went, though he kept his speed down so Neville wouldn’t become too unnerved. He could hear Neville grumbling indignantly behind him, so he began doing lazy loops and whirls to taunt him to greater efforts. 

Everywhere he looked, students were flying around, tossing a ball to one another, or a Frisbee, or just enjoying the fresh air and the beauty of the surrounding countryside. The sky was an amazing blue, and the sun was shining—though the temperature was already dipping towards brisk. This far north, days like this were going to be in short order before too much longer. He was glad so many were taking advantage while they still could. He was interrupted from his musing by Neville smacking him on the arm and taking off across the lake. “You’re it!” he called over his shoulder, only to ‘eep’ when Harry immediately took off after him.   
   
Neville began relaxing more and more as the game continued. They soon had a dozen kids playing with them, looping and chasing one another across the surface of the lake. Harry felt a prickle across the edge of his senses and cocked his head, wondering at what it had been, just as a cold breeze swept across the moors, bringing with it the heavy smell of rain. On the horizon, an ominous rumble sounded at the same time. Kids began slowing their flight while they looked around them. The clear blue sky was quickly filling with angry storm clouds that seemed to be racing across the sky from all directions to converge on Hogwarts. 

“I really don’t like the look of that.” Dean shouted over the rising wind. 

“Yeah, neither do I.” Seamus agreed as a hail of leaves and fallen twigs was picked up by the sweeping wind to pelt all of them. The ominous rumble of thunder sounded a second time, much closer—close enough that they could feel the sound in their bones. The smell of rain was becoming overpowering now; they could see the black clouds letting down a deluge as they raced across the nearby mountains. 

Almost as one they turned their brooms towards Hogwarts, and found themselves being buffeted by the wind, pelted with leaves, and drenched in icy water before they quite made it back inside. A third rumble of thunder sounded just overhead, deafening in its loudness—so much so that it startled a scream out of several of the students when it sounded. 

The students stood, dripping and shivering in the entryway, and watching out the door for the remaining students who were making their way across the grounds. 

“Where the bloody hell did this storm even come from? It soared in so fast you’d almost swear someone called it up!” Seamus complained, before letting out a sneeze.  
“Blimey, and now I’m getting sick. That’s lovely.” 

Harry tapped Seamus’ head and carefully enunciated a spell for Seamus’ edification. Seamus watched with some amazement as the rain pulled itself from his hair and clothing and puddled on the floor before being vanished by another wave of Harry’s wand.

“Thanks, mate. I think I’ll go swing by the hospital wing before dinner, get me a pepper-up potion. I don’t like being sick.” 

Elsewhere in the crowd, others who knew spells to remove water from clothing or dry hair were helping their friends do so, before separating to go to their separate common rooms, to change and put away their brooms. Harry, Neville and a few others vanished the puddles they left behind, just as Filch appeared from the dungeons. He looked to already be in a bad mood, and looking for someone to snarl at—he seemed marginally less angry as he watched the mess being taken care of without him. 

Filch nodded at them, stiffly. “You lot are a damn sight better than most of the little monsters that infest this place.” He added, before hurrying off. Dean and the others who had borrowed brooms waited till he was out of sight to go in search of Madame Hooch so they could leave the brooms with her.  
 

Harry, and Neville found their feet steering them towards the Melting Pot. They had come in far sooner than they’d originally intended, and there was still a few hours until dinner.   
“Geez, after that freak storm it’s going to be hard to get anyone to just go flying for the heck of it again. It was hard enough to convince most of them that you could just do that—now we get what seems like the wrath of god descending on us all for doing so, no one is going to want to try again!” 

“Are you saying you’ve just found proof of god’s existence?”

“…” Harry looked at him strangely. “Yes, Neville that’s just what I’m saying.” He agreed sarcastically. “It’s a figure of speech.”

“I was being sarcastic too. No one can ever seem to tell.” Neville sighed sadly. “I know what you mean though. I was just starting to get comfortable and relax some. My hands had actually started aching at first because I was holding on so tight. The longer that went that nothing bad happened, the more I was able to relax. I was starting to have fun there just when the storm whipped up.”

“Maybe we should look into spells to repel wind and rain. It’s kind of inconvenient, being at the mercy of the weather like that.” Harry mused. “I wonder what happened to everyone else.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Ron, for one. He never did show up. Neither did Cho. I suppose she might have changed her mind last minute and decided not to come, but last I’d heard she was planning on coming out. I never did see her, or any of her friends from Ravenclaw either.” 

“Huh, that is weird. Ron’s probably off fighting with Ginny somewhere about her trying to steal his broom. I guess Cho and the other girls might be doing their hair or something. Maybe their nails. Girls do that you know. I don’t know why they have to work in groups though. I guess it’s complicated, whatever it is they have to do.” 

“You know, most of the others probably aren’t down there. You want to go to the library and see if we can find weather repelling charms so if something like this happens again it won’t matter?”

“Sure, got nothing else to do.” Neville agreed. They turned around and headed back the way they came.   
 

 

“Oh, hi guys. What’s up?”

“Hi Neville, hi Harry. We’re looking to see if there’s any way to keep rain and mud off when you’re outside.” Hannah Abbot explained. She, Justin and Ernie were all surrounded by books on their table and were diligently searching.

“I guess great minds think alike. That’s what we came here for.”

“Capital! Why don’t you help us then? I daresay you won’t find any weather-related books left on the shelves, as I do believe we’ve already taken them all.” Justin added.

“Sure, give us the ones you haven’t looked at yet.” Harry agreed as he and Neville seated themselves at the table.   
   
They had been at work for only a little while when Hermione bustled past with an armload of books and slowed to a stop at the head of their table. She seemed quite astonished to find them all there.

“I thought all of you were out flying!” 

“I take it you haven’t looked outside lately? A monster storm swept up out of nowhere. We had to come back less than an hour after going out.” Ernie explained absently while perusing his book.

“So you all decided to come here and study?” Hermione asked unhappily. “What are you studying?”

“Ways to keep the rain and wind and mud from affecting us while outside.” Hannah explained.

Hermione dropped her books on the end of the table, crossed her arms and straightened up into what they all recognized as her ‘lecturing’ posture.

“Those sorts of spells fell out of fashion, and now are considered quite illegal due to secrecy. The muggles noticed that there was a shield keeping out the weather. You might as well give up and go do something else.”

“So we’ll just have to be smarter about it, that’s all.” Harry murmured.

“I just told you…!”

“You can run along and get back to what you were doing, Hermione. We’re busy, and by the look of it, you are too.” 

“Harry! Stop being foolish.” Hermione huffed, sounding quite exasperated. “I just told you, you can’t do it.”

“And I’ve told you, repeatedly I might add, that you’re not the boss of me.”

“Quiet! What’s going on over here?”

“Ah, Madame Pince, thank goodness you’re here. We’re trying to work here, and this young lady is disturbing us.” Harry replied without missing a beat. Hermione’s mouth dropped open in outrage and she made a sound like a stepped-on cat. Madame Pince looked at her suspiciously. “Run along now. Quiet in the library.” 

Hermione’s mouth shut with a click, and she picked up her books and flounced away, looking quite offended. Hannah, Neville, Justin and Ernie watched the byplay with wide eyes, then ducked into their books when Madame Pince stuck around to watch the rest of them for a bit to make sure they, too, were behaving themselves. Harry continued reading, seeming quite unperturbed by the librarian’s presence. Once satisfied, Madame Pince wandered off. The kids let out a breath once she was out of sight.   
   
“Wow. That was close.” Hannah whispered, before she suddenly started laughing very loudly. 

Her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, but it was no use. The boys looked at her in astonishment, but then Justin, then Ernie, then Neville, then Harry all started laughing very loudly as well.   
Madame Pince came rushing back, fire in her eyes at their audacity to carry on so in her library. 

“Accio Hermione’s wand!” Harry choked out between laughs. 

“Silence! SILENCE I SAY! HOW DARE YOU BEHAVE LIKE THIS IN MY LIBRARY! OUT! OUT!”

Hermione’s wand came sailing out of the stacks and smacked into Harry’s hand.

“Been hexed!” Harry chortled while waving the wand in Madame Pince’s face. 

A frightened looking Hermione came racing out of the stacks and skidded to a halt, paling when she saw Madame Pince with her wand.

“Madame Pince! That’s mine! He stole it!” she babbled.

“Priori Incantatum.” Madame Pince intoned while pointing her own wand at the tip of Hermione’s. A laughing face drifted out of the end, followed by another, and another and another. Madame Pince’s face slackened in shock. She tucked Hermione’s wand into her belt and cast ‘finite incantatum’ at the laughing children, before grabbing Hermione by her ear and hauling her from the room. “Such behavior! In all my days! You’re banned from the library for a week for this disturbance!”

“WHAT? NO! NO YOU CAN’T!” Hermione gasped in horror. 

“You cause a disturbance like this, and now you’re going to tell me what I can and cannot do in my library? Make it two!”

Hermione went so white, she looked about to faint.   
 

 

The other patrons of the library watched with mute astonishment as Hermione was hauled out the door by a very irate Madame Pince.

“She…she hexed us.” Hannah whispered. “Why would she do that? What did we ever do to her?”

“Haven’t any of you noticed before now that she hoards information and she’s a control freak to boot?” Harry replied with some annoyance. “I realize I’m usually the one on the receiving end of her various psychoses, but surely the rest of you at least noticed before now?” 

“Well, I’ll admit I noticed she was a bit bossy…honestly, I never understood why you were always arguing with her.” Justin admitted.

“That’s why.” Harry quipped while gesturing vaguely in the direction Pince had just hauled Hermione from the room. “I keep telling her she’s not the boss of me; so far it’s gone in one ear and out the other. What’s worse, every so often I get people trying to get me to just cave and let her boss me around so she’ll shut up already. Just for the record, that’s never going to happen.” 

“I still can’t believe she hexed us.”

“Honestly, I’m not that surprised. She’s been getting frustrated that her plans for world domination haven’t been going the way she wanted—and when persuasion doesn’t work, force is usually the next step.” 

“World domination?” Ernie choked.

“Well, maybe world domination is going a bit far…for the moment at least. I suppose for the moment school domination would be more accurate. I’ve no doubt she plans to expand later though—anyone who’s that much of a control freak will aim to rule the world eventually, if only to force everyone to do things their way.” 

The Hufflepuffs exchanged worried looks, but they were distracted a moment later when Harry tapped the book he was reading and smiled brightly. “Hey! I think I found what we were looking for!” 

They found a few useful spells to keep away the weather, and retired to a nearby abandoned classroom to practice until dinnertime.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rampages, wrackspurts, a near tragedy at the quidditch game, and Sir Nick celebrates his 500th death day.

Upon reaching the entryway on their way to the great hall for dinner, Neville stopped dead and gaped at the Gryffindor hourglass, which kept track of house points, in horror.

“We’re down eighty points! What happened?”

“Sadly, our little sister happened…though I thought she only lost fifty, not eighty.”   
“Yeah, I don’t know who lost the other thirty.”  
They turned and found Fred and George Weasley behind them, looking mournful.

“Ginny lost fifty points? What did she do?” Hannah demanded.

“Yeah, we’ll have to remember to thank her. We’re ahead of you all now!” Justin added cheerfully. 

Fred and George glared at him. 

“Don’t glare at him, it was your sister who lost us the points…well, her and Hermione.” Neville pointed out.

“Hermione? Granger? You’re kidding! What did she do?”

“She hexed all of us.” Harry replied.

“…”  
“…”  
“No, really, what did she do?” Fred repeated.

“She hexed all of us!” Hannah sputtered.

“Wow. A lot of that going around today. Why did she hex you?”

“She was trying to get us thrown out of the library. What did Ginny do?” Neville wondered.

“She went into the second year boy’s dorm, broke into Ron’s trunk and stole his broom—and apparently left a big mess behind. Then, while on her way outside, she ran across a bunch of Ravenclaw girls and hexed all of them so they couldn’t go out flying.”

“Can’t imagine why she might have done that.” George quipped, as he and Fred glowered at Harry.

“Then Ron caught up to her, and she hexed him too.” Fred continued. “Of course portraits went running off to get a teacher the moment she started hexing all the Ravenclaw girls, so she was caught in the act of hexing Ron—probably a good thing, actually. He nearly took a tumble down the stairs while he was flailing around, trying to fend off all the bats.”

“Bats?”

“Bat bogey hex. It’s sort of Gin-Gin’s trademark. It makes your bogeys turn into bats and fly out your nose. They attack you and scratch up your face. It’s quite unpleasant.” 

“Anyway, Snape caught Ron before he cracked his head, sent everyone off to the medical wing, took Gin’s wand and led her off by her ear. I’ve heard tell she’s going to be scrubbing bed pans for the foreseeable future.” Fred concluded.

“This is completely ridiculous. Come on, Neville. We’re going to make McGonagall put up a ‘no-girls’ barrier on our staircase. We complained all last year about Hermione traipsing up there whenever she damn well felt like it, and now Ginny is too? I don’t think so! If she doesn’t do it this time, I’m complaining to the board of governors.” Harry grumbled. 

Neville nodded and started after him.

“Oi, slow down. The upperclassmen aren’t going to thank you for such a move.” Fred warned.

“Yeah, you’ll be making a lot of enemies” George agreed.

“Let them be mad at Ginny and Hermione. It’s all very well for them to complain—it’s not their rooms being broken into!” 

“I’m with Harry on this.” Neville agreed. “If you ask Dean, Seamus or Ron they’ll agree.”

“I’ll agree about what?” Seamus asked from the stairs, where he came to a halt with Ron beside him.

“Getting a no-girls barrier on our staircase. How are you, Ron? We heard your sister hexed you.”

“I’m alright, it’s not like it’s the first time.” Ron muttered. “And I’m all for the barrier, but we already tried before, remember?”

“Why are you guys bringing it up again?” Seamus wondered.

“Ginny broke into our room and ransacked it.” Ron explained. “She only went into my trunk, not anyone else’s, but she left my stuff scattered all over."

“What? This is getting bloody ridiculous! It’s our room, not King’s cross bloody station!” Seamus spluttered. 

“We’re going to go demand McGonagall do something. If she ignores us again, we’re complaining to the board.”

“I’m with you lot. I’ll come too.” 

“Good, come on, she’s at the high table. Hopefully the other teachers will back us up if nothing else.” 

Fred, George and the Hufflepuffs followed them in, and took their seats, though they watched to see what McGonagall’s answer would be. Dean was at the table, and the four Gryffindor boys gathered him up on their way to the front.  
 

 

Professor McGonagall held up her hands as they approached, grabbed a napkin and held it in front of her mouth as she finished chewing her food. The five boys crossed their arms in front of their chests and waited. Headmaster Dumbledore twinkled at all of them jovially.

“Harry, my dear boy, what brings all of you up here?”

“Well, Albus…”

The Headmaster blinked and his face slackened in shock, while Professor McGonagall nearly choked on her food, and professor Snape dropped his fork, which landed with a noisy clatter on his plate. Flitwick Squeaked and Sprout eyed him like he was some unusual plant she’d just stumbled upon unexpectedly.

“Mister Potter!” Professor McGonagall scolded, sounding thoroughly outraged by his audacity.

Harry just raised an eyebrow and looked back without expression. “I was just following his lead…apparently we’re on a first name basis. Anyway, as I was about to say, we’re here to demand redress for the wrongs done us. We were ignored last year…”

McGonagall sighed and held up a hand to halt his building tirade. 

“Enough, Mr. Potter. It’s already done. I took care of it personally after the incident.”

“Which could have been avoided had our concerns been taken seriously last year.” Harry pointed out, not giving an inch.

Professor McGongall’s nostrils flared with irritation, and her lips pressed down into a thin, white line.

“That will be quite enough, Mr. Potter. What’s done is done. Return to your dinner before it gets cold.” 

“She came up to our room after we complained to you, you know.” Neville spoke up quietly.  
Beside him, Dean nodded. “While we were getting dressed in the morning.” He agreed.  
“She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and smirked at all of us.” Seamus added.  
Ron didn’t say anything, but his ears went red with remembered embarrassment and he nodded unhappily as well.

Professor McGonagall appeared to be quite taken aback by this news; the boys waited a moment to make sure the message (and admonishment) had been received, and then made their way to their table. 

Ginny and Hermione were both there, sitting across from each other, with a lot of space on both sides of them. Hermione was hunched in on herself with her nose buried in a textbook—she hadn’t gotten any new books from the library due to being kicked out. Ginny was glaring defiantly at those glaring at her and savagely poking at her dinner rather than eating it. 

The boys seated themselves and began dishing up their dinner.

Hermione bit her lip and leaned towards the boys, needing to know what they’d talked to McGonagall about, but all the boys’ cell phones began ringing. She got her answer anyway as they began filling in the curious students at the other tables.   
   
When the bell sounded, signaling the end of dinner, Hermione scurried out and followed the older students who were heading back to Gryffindor. Ginny started to follow the crowd heading for the Melting pot, but the Ravenclaw girls she’d hexed earlier – most of them simply to get them out of the way so she’d could get Cho—formed a barrier in front of the stairs leading to the dungeon. Ginny narrowed her eyes, but Professor Snape loomed up behind her and told her to run along, before she could either hex or be hexed.   
The girls parted to let Snape past, waited a bit to give him time to get to his office, and continued on their way. 

 

Harry stayed back, along with Neville, until the whole confrontation was finished and the Ravenclaw girls had gone on their way. He didn’t want to get dragged into the middle of it any more than he already was by virtue of being Ginny’s motive for mayhem. 

As they ambled down the hallway, Harry’s steps slowed as he heard a voice.

_“Hungry…soooo hungry…I smell meat…and blood….”_

“You alright there Harry?”

Harry blinked and nodded, before he continued walking. 

“Yeah, just thought I heard something.” 

Inside a cold chill travelled down his spine, and his mind began to race as he tried to figure out what it all meant.

_“I guess this means I called it right—Voldemort’s diary and Lockhart—there is some sort of plot afoot, most likely against me. Neither of them know I found the chamber last year—I never told anyone, so it’s not like word would have spread. I don’t know how old Voldemort was exactly when he found the chamber himself. The Voldemort with the diary looks like a teenager; he might not have the memory of finding the chamber in the diary. It’s possible neither of them actually know where it is, and so they’re framing me as the ‘evil heir of Slytherin’ with regular snakes… I just don’t know enough. I suppose it would work—mysterious attacks, Lockhart springs to the rescue, right under Dumbledore’s nose… Of course, he might need me dead, or I might tell someone about the diary he slipped me…  
What about Dumbledore? He sealed the record that names me heir of Slytherin. If I’m accused of ‘going on a rampage’ I have a feeling head auror Scrimgeour is going to be looking at Dumbledore suspiciously. I know the guy can read minds; he might know Lockhart was coming here to plot against me. If that’s the case, he’ll probably just sit back, let the plot play out—I end up dead, Lockhart steps forward as the ‘hero’—and then Dumbledore steps forward, unmasks him as the real villain, who was plotting with Voldemort all along—it’s too late for me, but he saves all the rest of the children of the school. Bada bing, bada boom, he rises back to heroic status. Maybe… It seems a ridiculously convoluted plot. I suppose I could be missing something. I just don’t know enough about what Lockhart was planning. I should have investigated that diary more before coming to school—it’s just my bad luck that I didn’t find it till the night before I left. Hopefully my report on the chamber of secrets will halt this stupid plot, whatever it is, in its tracks. Of course, it would be just my luck that it will make me look guilty—and plotting the demise of the muggleborn with malice aforethought. What to do, what to do?” _

“So what do you think? I think it’s a good idea.” Neville concluded, before looking at him expectantly.

Harry cast his mind over what Neville had been talking about while he was lost in thought—a useful skill he’d picked up at the Dursleys—and recalled him suggesting they make signs for the Melting Pot showing how to perform the useful spells they’d found to protect one from the weather.

“I think it’s a good idea too. We’ll get some of the kids in the art club to make them. In fact, we can set aside an area of the wall for anyone who wants to post similar things. We can put a sign above it saying something like ‘Secrecy-friendly Charms’ or something.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. We can do so many different things—I hate the thought of not being able to do any of it because a muggle might see. You can see how people would grow to resent muggles being around if that’s the case. Getting people to think about ways to hide in plain sight so muggles don’t get suspicious, but allowing the witch or wizard in question to use their magic will probably go a long way towards diffusing a lot of the resentment, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, that’s a very good point Neville. Good job.” 

Neville beamed with bashful pride, and hurried towards the art club the moment they passed the outer doorway.   
 

Harry slowed to a stop and raised an eyebrow when Marietta Edgecombe sniffed and crossed her arms upon spotting him. Cho looked at her friend imploringly, but was ignored. 

“Cho, Marietta. I heard you both got hexed earlier. Are you both alright?”

“Yes, we’re fine. Our faces were a little scratched up, and my nose is still a little tender, but we’re fine otherwise. Madame Pomfrey fixed us right up.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, why are you glaring at me?” Harry asked Marietta.

“It’s your fault it happened!” 

“Is that so? How do you figure that?”

“She did it because of you!”

“Perhaps she did, I don’t know one way or another as I barely know the girl. Regardless of why she did it, however, it was still her that did it, not me. I don’t appreciate being blamed for another’s actions.” 

Marietta rolled her eyes and muttered ‘whatever’ under her breath before stomping away to join the rest of their friends.

Cho smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize, it wasn’t you that did it. I guess I’d be pretty hypocritical if I blamed you for that after what I just said about Ginny.”

Cho smiled impishly and nodded. “You know what, you’re right. I’m not sorry at all.”

Harry snorted in amusement and shook his head. 

“I um, heard you and a bunch of others got hexed earlier too.”

“Yeah, Hermione trying to drive us out of the library by making us all laugh real loud. I got her though, I summoned her wand and told Madame Pince we’d all been hexed. She checked Hermione’s wand and found the spells on it. She’s banned from there for two weeks.”

“Wow. That’s more than any of us did. We just flailed around screaming…though in our own defense it’s very disorienting . It feels like you can’t breathe right at first and then like your nose is filling up until it seems ready to explode—and then giant bats come tearing out, screeching and scratching.” 

“Not one of you tried to throw up a shield or anything?”

“We haven’t covered shields.”

“I’d think Ravenclaws would be reading ahead and learning on their own.”

“We do” Cho defended herself and her housemates “but usually just stuff that interests us. Most of us aren’t planning a future where we’ll be needing to attack or defend on a regular basis—we’ll be in offices, or research libraries. That’s the plan, anyway.”

“Everyone, even future researchers, should know at least a basic shield—if only to give yourselves time to get away, if you’re not interested in battling.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I suppose I could go look up shield in the library.” 

“I can show you a basic shield, if you like.” Harry offered casually.

“Really? That’s nice of you. Should I get the others?”

“How about no? You can show the rest of them later. The offer is for you.” 

“Alright Harry…um now?”

“Sure.”   
 

 

Harry glanced around at the crowded room they were in and motioned for Cho to follow him. He headed towards the stairs and led her up.

“We can use one of the rooms up here. They haven’t been decorated yet, so they’re all empty.” 

Harry led her towards what had probably been a sitting room at one time, but now was just an empty room with a fireplace to one side, with a bedroom with an attached bathroom leading off of it. Cho drew her wand and looked at him expectantly.

“The incantation is protego. I’ve found it helps to visualize a thin barrier in front of your body that won’t allow anything to get through-it seems to make it stronger.”

“And the wand movement?” 

Harry moved to stand behind her and took her hand in his. Cho’s cheeks began to go pink, and seeing this, Harry’s did as well. He got distracted by her hair, which was shiny and smelled faintly of flowers, he realized now that he was standing so close. It was an effort of will that allowed him to draw his mind back from its wandering and back to what they were doing. 

“Yeah…the wand movement. Um…oh, right…the wand movement is a forceful jab followed by a small upward flick.”

“I don’t think I’ve quite gotten it. Maybe you should demonstrate again.”

“Really? Oh, okay…forceful jab, small upward flick.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you.” Cho replied innocently.

“No problem. Now try it.” 

“Protego!” Cho shouted. There was a faint flare at the end of her wand, but she couldn’t tell if it had worked properly or not.

Harry backed off and grinned at her impishly. “Now we test it.”

“Test it?”

Harry flicked his wand at her, whispering the spell quietly so she wouldn’t know what was coming. Cho shrieked and dropped her wand.

“Harry!” she laughed while shaking out her leg. “It felt like someone was tickling me with a feather!”

“That was kind of the idea. Try again, concentrate on imagining a shield covering you from my spells.”

“Protego!” Cho tried again, only to shriek and squirm a second time when it felt like cold fingers were brushing down her arm. 

“Again.” Harry warned, brandishing his wand.

“PROTEGO!” 

This time something seemed to impact the air in front of her, she could actually feel the pressure and recoiled a bit in surprise, which allowed the shield to falter. Most of the spell had been dissipated against the shield so she only felt a ghost of a tickle when it got through.

“Again?” she asked, steadying herself for the impact.

“Ready?”

Cho nodded and again shouted “protego!” in a strong voice. Since she was expecting the impact this time, the shield held steady.

“Good job, Cho.” 

They were both startled by the sound of clapping; they’d been so focused on one another that neither had noticed they’d drawn a small crowd from down below who’d come to investigate the shouts and shrieking.

“That looks dead useful. Show me how to do that. I intend today to be the last time my little sister hexes me and gets away with it.” Ron muttered as he strode into the room.

Neville, Hannah, Justin, Luna, Colin, Vince, Greg, Millicent and a few others who’d heard the commotion gathered around as well. Harry and Cho exchanged a somewhat glum look—they’d been rather enjoying their ‘alone time’, but they spread out and showed the others nonetheless. 

   
After about an hour of solid practice, Harry noted that many of the kids were drooping and looking tired out.

“What’s wrong with all of you? Surely you’re not wiped out from just that?”

“Well, yeah. You mean you’re not?”

“None of you get enough exercise, that’s the problem.”

“Not enough? With running all around this bloody castle, up and down stairs all day?” Ron scoffed.

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” 

“You don’t get any more exercise than we do.” Justin protested.

“The hell I don’t. I get up at the crack of dawn and have two hours of intensive exercise every morning. In fact, I got my cousin Dudley exercising this summer, and he actually stuck with it after I left my aunt and uncle’s this summer. Those of you who met him before know the sort of difference it made in him.” 

“What sort of exercise do you do?”

“Sword training, running, sit ups, push ups, pull ups, squats, stretches, tai chi, and a bit of mixed martial arts I picked up here and there.”

“What’s that, tai chi I mean?”

“It’s a martial art, a muggle thing. It focuses on dissipating force used against you, or using another’s force against them.” Harry tried to explain.

“Oh, a muggle thing.” Ron said without interest. “Wouldn’t be much use against a wizard.”

Harry shook his head in disappointment when the others nodded their heads. 

“Oh, Ron, you silly boy. First of all, a practitioner would be in a lot better shape than you are. Second of all, you looking at them and seeing ‘just a muggle’ would seriously work against you. Now granted, most of the folks you’re likely to run into who are taking martial arts lessons are likely to be hobby practitioners, and so while they could be quite dangerous, they’re not likely to attack you, or be wary of attack from you. However, if you ever run across a serious practitioner, or a hobby practitioner who has reason to see you as a threat, you should watch yourself. They could have you down and disarmed before you even realize you have reason to worry.”

Ron snickered and shook his head, as did a lot of the other kids.

“Don’t believe me? A demonstration then. Everyone back up, sit against the walls.” Harry ordered. While they moved to do that, he began casting cushioning charms on the floor.  
Ron was beginning to look a bit nervous at this point, but he reminded himself that it was just a muggle thing, and therefore couldn’t stand up to the might of a wizard.  
   
When Harry was finished, he handed his wand to Neville for safekeeping and gestured Ron to meet him in the center of the floor. 

“Give it your best shot.” 

Ron looked at Harry like he was crazy—but hey, if he wanted to be hexed, that was on him, wasn’t it?

Ron smirked, pointed his wand, and cast the ‘bat bogey hex’ that had caused such consternation earlier. It never connected.   
Harry dodged out of the way, and the spell impacted the floor, bounced off the cushioning charm and hit the wall, where gobs of mucus began to form which then became bats which started attacking the wall. Harry was already in motion before the spell bounced. He jabbed a spot on Ron’s arm which made the muscles in his hand twitch and caused him to drop his wand, and then grabbed the arm. Ron wasn’t sure exactly what happened; all he knew was that he was lying on his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with the wind knocked out of him. Harry, meanwhile, was standing calmly in the center of the floor, looking completely unruffled. 

The kids watching all blinked in astonishment—it had happened so fast, most of them had missed what Harry had actually done, so distracted were they by the shrieking bats. The results were undeniable though—Ron was indeed down and disarmed, even though Harry was without the use of magic at the moment, and had given him a chance to get off a spell at him before he’d attacked. The fact that all Harry’d had to use was some ‘muggle thing’ with a funny name to do so was a rather unsettling realization for all of them. Most of them had grown up quite secure in the knowledge that as witches and wizards muggles posed no threat to them, except by their numbers. The idea that a single unarmed muggle could take that away from them with so little effort was the stuff of nightmares.  
 

“Relax, everyone. There’s no need to have a meltdown.” Harry chided. “The chances of you randomly running across a situation like this are very slim. Keep in mind that I was expecting Ron to throw a spell at me, and was prepared to act. What I want you all to take away from this lesson is not an irrational fear of muggles, but a reminder not to be complacent or arrogant just because you were gifted with magic. The thing people always seem to forget is that, while muggles have no magic, they have their own gifts as well. They’re curious about everything, and they build on their knowledge generation by generation. They’re always pushing the boundaries of what they know, looking for new things to explore. Their lack of magic in some ways has been a boon to them.”

“What? How could a lack of magic be a boon?” Draco demanded.

“Because a muggle needs to understand something completely before they can use it, there are no shortcuts for them. Many witches and wizards get by with approximations and let magic take care of the details. If a wizard wants a house, they just start piling up rooms and depend on magic to hold it together and keep it from falling over or falling apart. A muggle can’t do that, so they had to learn how to build structures that would stand and hold together on their own merits. Each generation learned from the previous and they added to their overall store of knowledge. Now, they have schools that teach people how to build houses and other buildings that can be hundreds of stories high that will stand on its own and stay that way. With martial arts, they studied the human body, how it works, how the different parts affect each other. What they learned is how to put that knowledge to use in fighting one another without weapons.” 

 “Um, all that stuff about muggles is all very well and all, but what does it have to do with exercising?” Theo wondered.

“Forget that, what exactly did you do to Ron?” Neville wondered.

‘Yeah, I want to know that too.”

Harry held up a hand to quiet everyone. 

“What I did to Ron is tai chi. As for exercising-- the stronger your body, the stronger your magic. In fact, I figure that’s probably why our classes are scattered all over so that you have to trek up and down stairs and across the castle to get from one to the other—they’re forcing you to exercise as part of building strong witches and wizards.”

“Can you show me how to do that?”  
“What exercise?”  
“No, that thing you did to Ron.”  
“You have to exercise to learn it.”  
“What? Why?”  
“That’s how it works.”  
“I’d like to learn.”  
“Yeah, me too. Show me how to do that.”  
“You all want to learn tai chi?”  
“Yeah.” Neville spoke up. Around him, some of the other students nodded.  
“I want to learn sword fighting.” Ron grumbled.  
“Well, Mr. Malfoy is going to be doing fencing lessons. He’ll only be here twice a month or something, so you’ll probably have to practice on your own in you want to get anything out of it.”  
“Can’t” Ron sighed glumly. “We were all forbidden from taking classes with him. I tried objecting but mum backed him up. She doesn’t   
think anyone should learn how to use a sword anyway, and the fact that it’s Mr. Malfoy who’ll be teaching it was just too much.”  
“Hogwarts used to train knights; there are training dummies in the castle. That’s what I’ve been using. In fact one of my godfather’s friends made one for my birthday so I wouldn’t be without when I wasn’t in school.”   
“Yeah? That would be brilliant!”   
“I’d like to sword fight too.” Luna opined in her usual dreamy voice.  
Ron snickered and shook his head. “You’re a girl, Luna, in case you haven’t noticed.”  
“What does that have to do with anything? I’d like to as well.” Millicent spoke up, her voice dangerous.

Ron opened his mouth to answer her—and judging by the look on his face, whatever he was about to say wasn’t going to be nice. Harry jumped in before he could shove his foot in his mouth.

“Hey, enough, there’s no reason either of them, or any other girl who wants to for that matter, can’t learn sword fighting if they want to. Keep in mind, such training will be serving primarily as exercise in this day and age—no one’s likely to run into a situation that requires mad sword skills…well, okay, I suppose you could go looking for such a situation, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that any girl who wants to is certainly welcome, and while it’s true that women on average don’t have the same upper body strength men do, and this could serve as a disadvantage in some cases, they can still nonetheless with training become quite the deadly and dangerous force if they want to…and Ron? Weren’t you just hexed stupid by your little sister earlier today? You gonna say she’s not dangerous just because she’s a girl?”

“Well that’s magic, innit? Swords are different.” 

“Not really. I think the only reason there haven’t been more famous swordswomen in history is because girls were usually not offered such training in the first place. It doesn’t mean they can’t do it.” 

“Thank you, Harry.” Hannah spoke up. She and the other girls were glaring at Ron, who upon noticing, wilted under their combined regard.

“You’re quite welcome, ladies. Now, as far as sword training goes, I’d suggest you sign up for fencing when Mr. Malfoy comes along. In the meantime, I’ll see how many training dummies I can scrounge up. Those of you who want to learn tai chi, I can give you a quick lesson right now. I should warn you, you’ll just be learning the forms. Once you all have those down, I can start showing you what you can do with it. It’s a process; if you want to learn, I’ll show you, but you have to go the distance. Remember, it’s a muggle thing, so there are no shortcuts—and in fact, you wouldn’t actually get any of the benefits of it if there were. So, anyone who wants to give it a whirl come and form up into rows.” 

About half the kids there climbed to their feet and joined Harry in the center of the room, the rest stayed on the sidelines to watch.  
 

 

“Hey, Mister Filch…”

Argus Filch, Hogwarts caretaker, turned and glared at Harry suspiciously, as did his cat, Mrs. Norris.

“There’s a snake wandering around Hogwarts. I heard it hissing earlier. I don’t know how big it is, or what kind either. I think it’s in the animal tunnels. You should tell Mrs. Norris to be careful. If it’s a common garter snake it’s no problem, obviously, but if it’s a larger breed, or poisonous, she could be in danger. I just thought I should let someone know.”

Having said his piece, Harry wandered off. He could feel the caretaker’s suspicious, wary gaze on him the whole way until he moved out of sight.

_“Well, that takes care of that…maybe. I just realized…Lockhart and the diary might expect the basilisk to be dead, and Lockhart doesn’t strike me as someone who wants to fight a giant, deadly snake. I hope to god he didn’t bring a baby basilisk to roam through the walls. Of course, it might just be a common snake, and he’s planning on faking the attacks. Please let it be a common snake; if anything happens to Mrs. Norris, Filch is going to assume it was me, since I was the one who warned him. Oh well, nothing I can do about it now—if I go back and tell Filch to forget about it, it would just make him more certain I’m playing some sort of mean trick on him and his cat. It’s out of my hands now. Same with teaching everyone tai chi. What the hell was I thinking? Giving up my secrets like that; if anyone gets taken down muggle style, I’ll be the first suspect…although, the fact I offered freely to teach others might help guard me from that particular accusation. I won’t know unless something happens to that effect. Note to self: consider more thoroughly the long-term consequences of your words and actions before doing anything in the future.”_  
 

Feeling curious, he took his sketchbook out of his trunk when he got up to the dorms that evening, and climbed into bed, drawing the curtains—probably unnecessary as he went to bed a good hour before most of his roommates, due to getting up so much earlier. He wanted to see what ‘Voldemort’ was up to these days. He still didn’t understand what the deal was with the picture, or why the items each came with a different version of Voldemort at a different age, or why three of the Voldemorts had attacked two of the others and locked them away. It was a mystery—one he needed to keep investigating if he were to ever make sense of it.   
   
The Chamber of Secrets depicted in the drawing had changed a bit. The throne was gone, replaced with a chalkboard. The table and chairs the teen and kid versions used to have off to the side had been relocated to sit in front of the blackboard, with both chairs on one side facing it. Kid-mort was seated in one of the chairs, writing diligently with a pile of books surrounding him. That wasn’t the only new addition—there was a couch, chairs and a coffee table situated off to one side, while the other side held three beds. Diadem-mort and the teenager were seated in the new ‘living room’—Diadem-mort in a chair, reading the paper, while the teenager was draped upside down on the couch. His head was hanging towards the floor, and his legs were draped over the back. Diadem-mort seemed to find his undignified position irritating, something he was certain the teenager knew quite well; in fact he’d bet anything that was the whole reason he was doing it. 

Harry wondered why they’d set up everything in the main chamber—there was a ‘conference room’ and a lounge hidden in the wall to either side of the statue which would probably make a better classroom and living area than the main chamber with its reflecting pools and snake-themed monumental architecture did.  
As he watched, all three Voldemorts lifted their heads and glanced at the wall he’d just been thinking about. Diadem-mort said something sharp to the kid and teenager and motioned them to stay back while he drew his wand and approached the stretch of wall nearest to where he was. The teenager rolled off the couch, and slumped after him, looking sulky. He’d changed since Harry had last seen him—before he was wearing his school uniform and robe, with his hair gelled severely in place, wrinkle-free, tie straight, pants creased in a sharp line. Now, the teenager had discarded his robe, his shirt had the top two buttons undone and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. The tails of his shirt were untucked, and his hair was no longer gelled, but hanging free in loose curls around his face. It made him look completely different.   
The kid looked much the same as he had last time, though the hollows of his face had filled out somewhat; he no longer looked half-starved. He was wearing trousers, a button-up shirt, and a jacket. His hair was very short and neatly parted to one side.   
Diadem-mort still looked like parts of him had started to melt, and his hairline was receding. He was wearing old-fashioned, heavy robes that brushed the floor. He inspected the wall for a moment and found the first of the doors and opened it. 

Kid-mort and teen-mort crowded around to see over his shoulders and received a sharp rebuke for their trouble, which they both ignored, much to diadem-mort’s annoyance. He drew himself up and ordered them to, he thought, clean up the place and get it set up for their use, while he went to find the second room. 

   
Harry, acting on impulse, flipped over the picture and drew the two rooms that were down in the chamber which he’d found while cleaning the place up, one on either side of the page. The picture formed, and in the ‘lounge’, where he assumed the parselmouth basilisk handlers used to hang out in between shifts, kid-mort and teen-mort moved in and started cleaning the place up, before moving their beds in there—there were already comfortable chairs and small tables within—all made of stone, but charmed to be soft and conform to the shape of the body when sat in. In the other picture, Harry could see diadem-mort cleaning up the ‘board room’—where he assumed the parselmouths once held meetings or something. There was a long table with chairs around it which took up the center of the room. After removing the dust, he conjured blackboards on three of the walls, put most of the chairs against the walls, out of the way, transfigured the table to a teacher’s desk, and some of the extra chairs into student desks. He finished up by changing one of the extra chairs still left into an impressive chair to match his new desk. His final move was to conjure several shelves to take up the back wall, which he filled with books and miscellaneous items. He smiled happily and seated himself, before looking out over his new ‘classroom’ with a look of contentment on his face.   
Harry could hear people starting up the stairs, so he put the drawing away and re-locked his trunk, before climbing into bed. While listening to the sound of his roommates getting ready for bed as well, he mused on the oddities present in the picture, and in Voldemort himself. 

 

_“It’s odd how he gets suspicious of new things and is so wary while investigating, and yet he’s never once questioned the fact that there are several versions of himself all just randomly appearing in the chamber of secrets, and hanging out together. The oldest one seems to have appointed himself teacher to the others, or at least the youngest one. The teenager seems to be going through a rebellious stage or something. It’s so strange. When anyone does talk about Voldemort, which is rarely if ever, one thing everyone agrees on is that he was mad, evil, destructive—a monster in every sense of the word. The kid didn’t seem evil—he seemed pretty ordinary. The teenager doesn’t seem evil, though there is definitely something wrong…or something missing. The teacher doesn’t seem evil either—he seems perfectly content just have a classroom of his own, and capable students ,eager to learn, for him to teach. The other two that these three locked away were different. The next oldest seemed paranoid and eager to lash out at others. Snakey-mort, who seems to be the oldest and final version was evil—he just lashed out at everything around him, even himself, had freak-outs, had himself enthroned and seemed to expect others to worship him or something. Of course, it’s pretty obvious, seeing all of them together that something was happening to him—he goes from an ordinary human kid, to a good-looking human teenager, to a melting guy, to a badly melting guy going bald, to a completely bald, red-eyed snake-faced weirdo with an attitude problem. He lost his lips and his ears and his nose. He looks like a bizarre parody of a person, more snake than human. I wish I understood what it all meant. It seems like I should, like the knowledge is there just out of reach, but I just can’t seem to find the final piece that would make it all make sense.”_

 

 

The school year continued undaunted. The weather grew darker and colder, and the professors began piling on work to distract the students from cabin fever.   
Word spread that Draco Malfoy was now seeker for Slytherin house—Harry had missed the initial spread of the story due to being busy in the Chamber of Secrets, and then teaching tai chi and shielding in the Melting Pot.   
Lucius Malfoy purchased seven Nimbus 2001s to celebrate his son’s placement on the team.   
On Monday, seven Nimbus 2001s were delivered to Professor McGonagall—a gift to Gryffindor House from alumni Sirius Black—his way of making sure Gryffindor stayed competitive.  
Naturally, this state of affairs caused quite a bit of consternation for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout took matters into her hands and began sending letters to her own alumni, seeking to raise funds for brooms for her own team.   
The Finch-Fletchleys, who were quite well off, sent funds to purchase brooms for Hufflepuff, while Sprout was busy raising money on her own. She managed to gather enough to purchase seven brooms, only to have the Finch-Fletchley’s gift make the fund-raising unnecessary. In the spirit of good will and fair sportsmanship that Hufflepuff house was known for, Sprout used the funds she’d raised, and the Finch-Fletchley’s gift to purchase fourteen Nimbus 2001s. She kept seven for Hufflepuff House, and gifted the rest to Ravenclaw, so that all four houses would be on equal footing come game time.   
 

Ron, who was still sore about being beaten out for the seeker position by Lavender, became rather morose whenever the team came in from practice. To his thinking, he deserved the brand new Nimbus 2001 much more than Lavender did. He only grew more morose when Harry was sent a Nimbus 2001 by his godfather, who didn’t want him to feel left out after he’d sent the brooms for Gryffindor. Harry gave his old broom, a Nimbus 2000 to Dean Thomas.

“Bloody hell mate! Why didn’t you give it to me?”

“You’ve already got broom, Ron. Dean doesn’t have one.” 

“A crappy one! Some friend you are!”

“Ron? Dean’s my friend too.”

“There are seven bloody children in my family.” Ron growled, his face twisting and going red. “You know we don’t have a lot of money.” He added quietly through gritted teeth. Money was always a sore point with Ron.

“I hate to break it to you, mate, but Dean has seven bloody children in his family as well, and they don’t have a lot of money either. You’ll find that’s true for a lot of people, not just you.” 

Honestly, Harry didn’t know why Ron was so irate—he did indeed already have a broom of his own, and the weather was becoming unpleasant enough that no one was really too keen to go outside to fly for fun anyway. Neither of those things seemed to matter to Ron though; he continued being scowly and grumpy every time he saw either Dean or Lavender for a couple of weeks—until his sister tried hexing him again to make him stop moaning about it. He managed to put up a shield and bounced the bat bogey hex back on her. He was considerably more cheerful after that, and forgave Harry for giving his broom to Dean and not himself—he figured him teaching him the protego charm made up for it…well, almost. He was still pretty sore about the whole thing.   
 

Lucius Malfoy showed up the third week of September for the first fencing club meeting, and Betty Perks, Sally Anne’s mother, the fourth week for the first choir meeting. Both groups attracted a wide turnout—so much so that both adults worried they wouldn’t be able to get much done due to the sheer number of students.   
The fencing club’s problem was solved by the addition of the training dummies—twelve in all, that could assist Lucius in training a generation of swordsmen. Betty Perks opted to have choir practice every week rather than every other week in order to be sure that she had time to give enough attention to everyone.   
 

September turned to October, and the Puppeteer Brigade announced that they were ready to unveil their first performance. There were near-life size puppets, creepy sets, and an elaborate fountain that rose up out of the ground (an illusion Professor Flitwick helped them with) for the final act. 

They performed the show for Professor Flitwick, who after helping with parts of the set was curious to see the finished product. He was so pleased, he arranged for them to perform for the whole school after dinner in the great hall. He’d hoped to have it for an addition to the Halloween feast, but Betty Perks had already claimed that spot for the choir—something that had been causing Harry quite a bit of consternation. 

He had joined the choir, as had Neville, at the urging of Draco and Pansy who both loved to sing. He was regretting it now that he knew they’d be performing in front of the whole school. No good had ever come from being part of school performances before—just tirades about how he was getting uppity, thinking that anyone wanted to see a ‘freak like him’ up on stage. He found he was subject to the same sick dread of performance here as he always was, even though he knew Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon weren’t going to be around, and would never likely even hear of the performance.   
   
It was now a week before Halloween, and Harry was already feeling slightly ill from knowing he’d be performing. Neville was feeling a bit queer as well, and with slightly more cause; he’d be performing with the choir on Halloween after the feast, and on November 1st after dinner with the puppeteer brigade. The two Gryffindor boys were in stark contrast with Draco and Pansy, who couldn’t seem to wait for the performance, and were already bragging about how impressed everyone was going to be. 

 

“Harry, dear boy, could I bend your ear for a moment?” 

Harry shook himself out of his morose musings and found Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, better known as ‘Nearly Headless Nick’, the Gryffindor house ghost, floating in front of him looking hopeful.

“Greetings, Sir Nick. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well you see, I was hoping you’d accept my invitation to a little soiree I’ll be hosting. It’s a special occasion—my 500th death day, to be exact. It should be quite the party; ghosts will be coming in from all over Britain to attend.”

“Oh…um, congratulations? Is that appropriate for such an occasion?”

“I will take it in the spirit it was given. Will you be able to attend?”

“When is it?”

“Halloween—a fortunate coincidence by my reckoning; having my death day coincide with the holiday has meant that my parties are usually both festive and well-attended.” 

“Ah, I’m afraid that will be a problem. The choir will be performing in the great hall on Halloween after the feast, I’m afraid. I’m a member of the choir and I’m expected to be there.” 

“It will be starting at 4, perhaps you could drop by early?” Sir Nick asked hopefully.

“I suppose I could manage to pop by for a bit. Can I ask you a question though? Why are you so insistent that I attend?”

Sir Nick looked a bit embarrassed, and he glanced around to make sure no one was paying too much attention to their conversation.

“I hesitate to admit this…but I was hoping the presence of the ‘Boy Who Lived’ would add a bit of luster to the party.” He admitted. “Please don’t be offended…I’ll admit I have other reasons, but sadly that one is the most pressing.” When Harry just raised an eyebrow and waited him out, Sir Nick sighed and nodded. “I have a rival, you see…Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore. He’s an arrogant old sot, leader of the headless hunt you see. I’ve applied every year since rising as a ghost and he’s turned me down flat each and every time. As if that weren’t enough, he makes a point of coming to my parties so he can make fun of me and my lack of headlessness.” He sighed despondently, and grabbed his head by the hair and tilted it to show the half-inch of skin that kept it attached. “Such a small bit of skin to mean so much” he sighed again “A half inch of memory keeps me from attaining my dream.”

“I’ll try to stop by. I’ll bring Luna and Colin along—they can cover the event for the Quibbler, after all, it’s not every day one has a 500th death day, is it? Maybe you should invite Lockhart too, he’s a prat, but he’s certainly famous. If he seems reluctant, tell him the event is going to be covered by one of the papers. That should reel him in.”

Sir Nick brightened considerably and he nodded to himself. “Yes…two celebrities and a mention in the paper would certainly wipe the smile off old Delaney-Podmore’s face, wouldn’t it? Why, I’ll be the talk of the ghostly circuit for months with a coup like that to my name! I must go and corner Professor Lockhart immediately!”

“Just a second, Sir Nick, you said you had other reasons for approaching me…” Harry said leadingly.

“Oh, that…well, I have reason—small reason, as you’ll see, to suspect that you may be a descendant of mine. Your mother, Lily is the reason I suspect. I lost track of my descendants you see. The line went muggle after a while, and stayed that way long enough that I had no real means to keep track of them. It’s considerably easier to keep track when they come to Hogwarts, as you can imagine.” 

“If you lost track of them, what makes you think my mother is one?”

“The red hair and green eyes…this is why I say it’s small reason; after all, the Weasleys have red hair to a man, as I well know having seen so many of them over the years. The Weasley clan has a fairly distinctive ginger coloring, and of course, innumerable freckles, they also tend to have either blue or brown eyes. There have been other redheads occasionally that have passed through these halls who weren’t Weasleys—again with orange or ginger hair, usually with freckles, and blue or brown eyes. Your mother’s hair was a particular shade of red, particularly vibrant and more scarlet than the more usual ginger or orange—a color I’ve only ever seen in my own family, you see. I myself sported such hair during my lifetime, in fact. I also had emerald-green eyes, which again are uncommon, and something I’ve only ever seen in my own family line. Even there they weren’t common exactly, but quite a few of my ancestors did have them—nearly a third, I’d say. Mind you, magical portraits only gained prominence about a hundred years before my death, so I’m certain there were many others fitting such description before then; however, only those who had portraits done in the time before my death are ones I can attest to. I never approached your mother about my suspicions” he admitted after a pause.   
“It was a possibility, like I said, but I had no proof one way or another. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, you see—she rather bitterly resented her lack of wizarding connections. I was under the impression her having magic caused a rift of sorts in her family…” he trailed off delicately.

“You could say that. I was given the impression that my maternal grandparents were happy to have a witch in the family…my aunt Petunia not so much.” 

“I am sorry to hear that. Do you see though, why I didn’t see fit to mention my suspicions? It is rather little to go on, and could easily be a coincidence, nothing more.”

“Yes, I quite understand, and really there probably isn’t any way to tell—the muggle world doesn’t usually have the means to track a person’s genealogy very far back.” 

“Quite a pity, that. I would like to know if my line did in fact re-bloom after having lain fallow for so long… Ah well; nothing to be done about it one way or another.” 

“Yeah. I’ll let you be on your way.” 

Sir Nick nodded and drifted off, and Harry watched him go. 

He could admit some curiosity about his possible connection to Sir Nick, but what he’d said was true. Most folks didn’t know anyone past their great-grandparents, and most didn’t even know that much. Five hundred years was a long time, too long to realistically trace back a lineage through the muggle world—which would have been difficult enough even before WWII destroyed a lot of muggle records. He was just going to have to accept that his curiosity would likely remain unsatisfied.   
Harry shook off his musings and headed off to find Luna and Colin to see if they wanted to help him cover Sir Nick’s 500th death day party.  
   
   
Halloween dawned clear and bright. There was a lot of excitement among the students; today was the first quidditch game of the season, and also the first Hogsmeade trip of the year--for the 3rd years and up. If that wasn’t enough, there would be a feast that evening, and afterwards there was the first performance of the choir, which naturally had everyone both curious and excited. It was going to be a very busy Halloween; much moreso than usual.  
The quidditch game –Gryffindor versus Slytherin—would be taking place right after breakfast.   
Lavender, when she came down, was pale, nervous and looked like she hadn’t slept well.

“Alright there?” 

Lavender mustered up a sickly smile and nodded. “It just occurred to me that a lot is riding on me; it’s a lot of pressure.” She admitted.

“Buck up, Lav, you’ll be fine. Just do your best—no one can ask for more than that.” Parvati assured her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I really think Oliver will kill me if we don’t get the cup this year.” Lavender whispered back worriedly. 

“Want a calming draught?”

“Yes, but I’d better not. I don’t want my reactions impaired.” Lavender sighed before attempting to eat some breakfast. 

She managed to eat a bit of toast and choke down some pumpkin juice before the team gathered to head down to the pitch.  
   
“Look at you, Harry! No team spirit at all!” Seamus tutted as the rest of them finished up breakfast. 

“I didn’t realize red and gold face paint was a required accoutrement for a school quidditch game.”

“Stop talking fancy and get in the zone mate, it’s quidditch!” 

Harry tapped the top of his head and made his hair Gryffindor red.

“Happy now?”

“Why couldn’t you have just painted your face like the rest of us?” Dean laughed.

“I march to the beat of my own marimba band.” 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the beat of your own drummer?”

“Which is sort of my point.” 

Parvati hit her hair with a color charm and made it red to match Harry’s, then hit Hermione with a charm to make hers gold. “There. We should sit together to show our support.”

“We should probably start heading down—wanna get good seats after all.” 

Hermione was staring at a clump of her hair, aghast at its metallic color, and she drug her feet, looking back to the castle longingly as she was drug down to the pitch.

“I’m not really a sports fan; I’d really much rather be reading.” 

Harry acted shocked and dismayed and put his hands on his hips. “Hermione Jean Granger! Why are you trying to sneak off? What are you up to that you don’t want anyone to see? Are you going dark? Are you plotting something? You are aren’t you? Where’s professor McGonagall, or the headmaster? I need to tell them right away that you’re up to no good!” 

Hermione spluttered indignantly while the rest of the kids laughed. 

“He’s got you there, Hermione. Looks like you’re stuck with us.” Ron snickered.  
   
As they approached the pitch, Harry realized there was someone familiar up ahead…make that two someones. 

“Sirius?”

“Ah, Harry, there you are kiddo! Let’s get some seats, yeah?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see my favorite godson, and I also wanted to see how Gryffindor’s new brooms fare.” Sirius explained, while throwing an arm over Adeline’s shoulder. “Lucy’s here too, wanted to see how his son fares. Moony’s around here somewhere as well.” He continued, while craning his head around. Suddenly a delighted grin spread over his face. 

“Oho! Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?” Harry asked.

“See? Over there by the teacher’s box?”

“Oh, that’s professor Burbage, Charity Burbage. She’s the Muggle Studies teacher. She replaced Quirrel when he decided he’d rather do DADA.”

“Burbage…I think there was a Charity Burbage in Hufflepuff when we were in school… Well, let's get into the Gryffindor stands, shall we, Moony looks fine where he is.” 

Harry glanced back over his shoulder as he was led away, and saw Remus chatting with the blonde muggle studies teacher. Remus glanced their way, saw Sirius and Adeline heading up into the Gryffindor stands with the kids, and then turned back to Charity with a smile and a shrug, before accompanying her into the teacher’s stand.   
   
They managed to get seats in the front row, so they’d have a good view of Lavender in action. When the teams came out, to the sound of much cheering and howling, Lavender and Draco were easy to spot—both were the only blondes on their respective teams, and they were also the smallest by a fair margin. The team captains shook hands—though even from high in the stands it looked more like they were trying to break each other’s hands—and the teams mounted their brooms, waiting for the signal. The bludgers and snitch were released and the quaffle flung high into the air. 

_“Welcome one and all to the first quidditch match of the season! Today we have Gryffindor versus Slytherin! I’m your host, Lee Jordan. We have Gryffindor in possession, thanks to the quick work of chaser Angelina Johnson—a fine athlete and very attractive too!”  
“Jordan!”_ the crowd could hear McGonagall hiss warningly. 

The players were flying fast and furious; neither side seemed to be holding anything back. Lavender was having difficulty looking for the snitch as the Slytherin beaters seemed to be concentrating on her, forcing Fred and George to spend most of their time trying to protect her. The three Gryffindor chasers were left open to the attentions of the Slytherin chasers who were playing quite the vicious game, elbowing the competition, trying to foul their brooms, in short, doing everything they could to keep the team occupied so Draco had the leisure to search for the snitch unimpeded. 

The Gryffindor team, naturally, began fighting back. Fred and George had better teamwork than probably any other pair of beaters currently playing—they were the very definition of teamwork, in fact. They managed to start turning the tables on their Slytherin counterparts, by choosing their defense wisely, and redirecting the bludgers to the rest of the Slytherin team and forcing them to widen their scope and give Lavender some breathing room in which to search. The Gryffindor chasers didn’t sit idle either—their elbows were just as sharp, and their flying just as skillful. 

“I can’t believe those horrid people! They’re awful! Did you just see that great brute of a Slytherin jab Angelina in the chest?”

“To be fair, she punched him in the nuts a few minutes ago.” 

“Well, yes…but he deserved it.” 

Harry just looked at her. Hermione fidgeted under his stare and a light flush began to spread along her cheeks. 

Parvati gasped and they turned back, to find her staring intently at the sky above. They followed her gaze, in time to see Lavender narrowly avoid a bludger, which put her in the path of one of the Slytherin chasers. They collided. The Slytherin flailed a bit, but managed to keep his seat. Lavender, who was much smaller and lighter than the burly sixth-year, went tumbling off, while her broom continued on without her, nearly knocking Alicia, one of the Gryffindor chasers, off her broom. 

Parvati screamed in fright as Lavender began falling towards the ground. Harry, Neville and Sirius pulled their wands and pointed them at the ground just seconds before Lavender collided. 

Lavender landed with a thud and lay still—they weren’t sure if their spells had made any difference. 

Hooch’s whistled shrilled again and again, as she landed beside Lavender and began checking her over, the rest of the players landed a distance away and watched quietly as they waited to hear whether Lavender would be alright.  
A stir of unease went through the watching crowds when Madame Pomfrey bustled down onto the field, and then left with Lavender in tow on a stretcher. Her face looked grave, and Lavender still hadn’t stirred. Parvati choked and then began weeping brokenheartedly, before throwing herself at Harry, who stiffened in surprise, and then began patting her gingerly on the back. A weeping Hermione threw herself on him a moment later. 

The players milled around down on the field and conferred with Hooch, and then the twins mounted their brooms.

“Where are they going? It looks like they’re coming this way.” Ron noted.

“They need someone to take Lavender’s place, or we’ll have to forfeit.” Sirius explained.

“I can’t believe all of you! How could anyone care about the game when Lavender is in the hospital?”

“It’s bigger than one person, unfortunately. The game must go on.” 

“That’s barbaric.” Hermione sniffled.

The twins came to a halt in front of Harry and the two girls.

“Harry, old man.”  
“We’re in need of your services.”

“I can do it!” Ginny exclaimed, pushing her way to the front.

“No can do Gin-Gin. You’re a first year. It’s not allowed.”  
“School rules you know. Sorry.”  
“Well, come on, time’s a wasting.”

Parvati and Hermione, still sniffling, stepped away from him. The twins grinned , and each grabbed one of Harry’s arms, and lifted him bodily from the stands to the field, while quite blithely ignoring his protests.   
They frog-marched him to where the rest of the team was waiting. Alicia gave him Lavender’s broom with an apologetic smile, Madame Hooch transfigured his robes into the quidditch robes all the rest were wearing. 

“All right, mount up! Let’s get this show on the road.”

Harry gave them all a dirty look. “Why didn’t you grab Ron, or Dean or Seamus? They actually tried out!”

“You fly better than they do. Stop whining.” Alicia huffed.

Oliver clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “Get on the broom, Potter.” 

“I feel I should inform you that I’ll be lodging a protest after the game. I didn’t try out because I didn’t want to play.” 

“Get on the bloody broom, Potter!” Angelina growled. 

“Everyone, please, that’s not the way to get a cooperative seeker!” Fred chided.

“Indeed. Watch and learn.” George concurred. “Harry my lad…the sooner you get the snitch”  
“The sooner you can see if your little girlfriend is alright.” Fred concluded.

“Let’s get playing. She’s not my girlfriend.” Harry grumbled as he mounted his broom.

“Sure lad, whatever you say.” Madame Hooch tittered. “Mount up!” 

The whistle shrilled and the players shot skyward. The Slytherin team managed to get possession of the quaffle this time, though they didn’t hold on to it long. The Gryffindor team played like they were possessed—the gloves were off, and they were determined to win. Harry flew above them and made a lazy circuit of the pitch, and then dropped a few feet, arm outstretched, before flying towards the announcer’s stand.   
He held up the snitch so Lee Jordan could see it, and then turned towards the Gryffindor stands.

“Potter has gotten the snitch!” He could hear Lee shrieking behind him. “Gryffindor wins!”

Harry came to a stop where he’d been seated not long before and signaled Parvati.

“Hop on. Let’s go see how Lavender is.” 

Parvati wiped her eyes and climbed on without protest. A moment later, they were gone.

Down below on the field, the Gryffindor team was celebrating, and around them the other Gryffindors in the stands were cheering and carrying on as they began to spill down onto the field to celebrate as well.   
Neville eyed the celebrating crowd, and then pulled his own broom from the pouch on his belt and took off towards the castle. Dean and Seamus looked torn, but they pulled their brooms as well and followed, much to Hermione, Ron and Ginny’s annoyance. 

“Bugger. There won’t even be a party—they’re all going to head off down to Hogsmeade; they’ll probably celebrate there. I guess we might as well go see if Lavender’s alive.”   
“Ron!” Hermione snapped.

   
Parvati and Harry hopped off of the broom outside the doors to the medical wing. When they stepped into the medical wing, they found Madame Pomfrey putting some privacy screens into place around Lavender’s bed.

“Madame Pomfrey! Lavender…is she…!”

“Shhh!” the mediwitch hissed as she came towards them. “She’ll be fine, but she’s sleeping right now. She had a lot of broken bones, poor lamb. It’s a lucky thing someone thought to cushion the ground before she landed, or it might have been a different story. She won’t be waking till this evening at the earliest, so you might as well run along…”

“MADAME POMFREY! LAVENDER…IS SHE…!”

Parvati and Harry jumped in fright and turned to look at Neville, Dean and Seamus who were framed in the hospital wing doors, having flung them open with a bang as they arrived.   
The three boys gulped in fright and hunched in on themselves when Madame Pomfrey fixed all of them with a fierce glare and drew herself up to her full height.

“Sorry.” Neville whispered. “Lavender?”

“As I was just telling these two quiet, polite children who know how to act in a hospital wing” Pomfrey sniffed while fixing the three boys with another disdainful gaze “Your friend is sleeping at the moment, recovering from multiple broken bones and a concussion. She’ll not wake before this evening at the earliest, so you can stop by then to see her…for a few moments, and then only if you are quiet and behave yourselves, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.” The children all chorused together. 

**“Whoohoo!”**

“What on earth?” Pomfrey muttered. They could all hear the sound of someone cackling and cheering…even occasionally whooping…and it sounded like it was getting closer. Neville, Dean and Seamus turned around and stuck their heads out into the hall, and then retracted them in a hurry, as Sirius Black pulled up outside of the hospital wing on a broom pilfered from the Gryffindor quidditch team. Adeline was draped across his lap crosswise and holding on for dear life, looking distinctly ruffled. When they stopped, she hopped off and then began smacking him about the head and shoulders and cursing a blue streak. Sirius just ducked to avoid the worst of her blows and laughed delightedly. His cheeks were flushed, his hair ruffled and his eyes sparkling with mischief and good cheer—he looked like he hadn’t had so much fun in ages. 

“Sirius Black! I should have known you’d pull a damned-fool stunt like this!” Pomfrey huffed, though she didn’t look nearly as upset as she sounded; in fact, it looked rather like she was trying to hold in a smile. Parvati giggled; her normal good spirits had returned now that she’d been assured Lavender would be alright, Neville and the other boys looked at Sirius like he was the coolest adult they’d ever met—which, to be fair, he probably was. 

   
“Sirius?” Harry interjected. 

“What, pup? You didn’t think we’d leave without saying goodbye, did you? Though you’d have completely deserved it if we did, after you left so abruptly. Good game, by the way. I have a question though…if you’re good enough that the whole team could think of no one better to play stand-in, and literally kidnapped you from the stands…why the hell aren’t you on the team?” 

“Oliver’s quidditch-mad. He keeps them out there practicing for hours every day he can manage—before classes, after classes and on weekends. He wants to make a career of quidditch, so that’s fine for him. I have very little free time as it is. If I was on the team I’d have no free time, and the endless practices would end up eating into my homework, study and practice time as well. It didn’t seem worth it to me…others feel differently.” 

Sirius slanted a glance at Parvati and grinned. “Well, so long as you’re spending your time wisely.” He leered. “Your father would be so proud….and jealous…extremely jealous. Mostly he’d be proud.”

Harry just nodded—he supposed most parents would be proud of a kid who chose study over games…he wasn’t quite sure where the jealousy fit in. Perhaps his father hadn’t been a good student? Whatever; adults were weird.

“We’re done here anyway. Lavender’s going to be fine, but she’s asleep.” He glanced at the broom in his hand and then at the one Sirius was still sitting on, and then handed his to Adeline. “I need to return this to Madame Hooch…since you’re going that way anyway…”

Sirius began to grin and look mischievous. Adeline eyed him warily for a moment, then her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No! You cannot be serious! Absolutely not!”  
“I’m always serious” Sirius joked. “And what’s the harm? You’re not a student anymore; what can they do to you?”

They engaged in a staring contest, and then Adeline sighed and climbed on the broom, much to Sirius’ delight. 

“I just know I’m going to regret this…”

“Ah, live a little! On the count of three…1…2…3” Sirius shouted as he took off down the hall.

“Sirius! You dirty cheater!” Adeline shrieked as she took off after him. The kids raced down the hall after the retreating brooms and skidded to a halt, where they leaned over the balustrade and peered down into the stairwell. Sirius and Adeline were racing down the center, dodging the moving staircases.

The kids cheered and urged them on. 

“MISTER BLACK!” 

The sound of McGonagall’s outraged shrieks quieted the kids, who immediately hid so she wouldn’t see them while looking up.

“Oh crap! Minnie! Quick, head for the covered walkway, we’ll lose her there!” 

“GET BACK HERE AND TAKE YOUR PUNISHMENT LIKE A MAN! THERE IS NO FLYING IN THE HALLS!” 

The kids fell down laughing and peeked back down the stairway, where they could see Sirius and Adeline zipping ahead of McGonagall who was waving her fists and looking fit to be tied. They started down the stairs once she was out of sight; they wanted to get to the Melting Pot post haste—none of them wanted to stumble across her while she was still pissed off.   
   
By the time they made it down there, they found some of the other first and second years gathered within.  
Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were in the process of adding something to the ‘Secrecy-friendly charms’ wall.

“Boy, you two work fast. You can’t have been here more than a few minutes.”

“We were going to drop off our cloaks back in our dorms, but we came straight here instead. Draco’s in a bit of a mood. Vince and Greg went with him to try and cheer him up. I’d say nice flying, but we didn’t get to see you do much of it.” Tracey muttered.

“Not my fault, I got lucky. The snitch was right near where I was; I just dropped down and grabbed it.” Harry replied indifferently. “So, you’re adding something new. What is it then?”

The Slytherin girls seemed happy enough to let the subject of their surprise loss to Gryffindor drop.

“There’s two, one is the ‘notice me not’ charm.” Daphne explained. “It doesn’t make you invisible, it just sort of makes you uninteresting enough that people won’t pay you much mind. It won’t hold up to intense scrutiny—if someone notices something they find odd enough for a second look, they will be able to see past it with effort, but it’s pretty good for most uses. The second is a bit more sturdy. If you cast it on yourself, you can walk around in robes in a muggle area and they won’t see you…that is, they’ll see you, but you’ll appear to be dressed in whatever they consider normal, boring muggle-wear that isn’t worth a second look. A lot of people have trouble with transfigurations, and so transfiguring their clothes on the fly isn’t always an option.”

“Not to mention a lot of wizards have really bizarre ideas about what constitutes muggle fashion, and so even if they transfigure their robes into muggle clothing, they might end up attracting more attention than if they’d left them as robes.” Tracy added.

Harry snickered appreciatively and began practicing the charms, following the instructions they’d put up.

“Make the double swish a bit tighter and faster. Think about how you don’t want to be looked at. That always helps me.” Daphne coached.

When both girls blinked and stared intently in his direction, or tried to, as their eyes kept sliding past him, he figured he’d gotten it. He quietly walked around to stand on their other side and then cancelled the charm.

“Thanks for the help. I think that did it.”

Daphne and Tracey both jumped and then glared at him for startling them.

“You did that pretty well. I wasn’t able to see past it, even though I knew where you started out and what you were doing.” Tracey offered, a bit grudgingly. 

Harry grinned back and began practicing the second charm, casting it several times on both girls until he got it right. When he did, he laughed.

“You look like the librarian from my old neighborhood.” 

Daphne crossed her arms and glared at him till he removed it.  
Harry did so and then leaned in conspiratorially, his eyes glittering with mischief. 

“You know ladies, it occurs to me that we could have a bit of fun with these two charms.”

The girls tried to look bored and uninterested, as though such things were beneath their dignity.

“People will realize someone is just going around doing something.”

“We have four bathrooms and one hundred and twenty kids down here. If we do it right, we can sow mass confusion while we’re at it.” 

The girls looked interested in spite of themselves.

“What did you have in mind exactly?”  
   
 

Hermione shifted in her seat and tried to concentrate on her book, but her bladder was insistent. With an annoyed sigh she set her book aside and started towards the bathroom, only to be shoved aside by Romilda Vane, a first year Gryffindor as she sped past her and darted into the bathroom ahead of her. 

“Well really!” Hermione huffed. She crossed her arms and began tapping her foot impatiently while waiting for the younger girl to finish. She was squirming by the time the girl came back out, and pushed her way into the bathroom as soon as she opened the door. Part of her mind noted that she seemed to be dressed differently than she had been when she went in, but she didn’t pay much attention—her body was complaining about the long wait. She also noted someone coming up behind her and grumbling as she darted into the bathroom, but she ignored them as well; she was there first, they were just going to have to wait their turn, same as she had.

When she came out a few minutes later, feeling much better, she was shoved aside by an impatient Pansy. “Finally!” she muttered as she slipped past.   
Hermione huffed again and started back downstairs to where her book was waiting, only to realize a line was forming up for the bathroom. 

“You were in there forever!” Ginny grumbled as she walked past.

“Bathroom hog!” Ron added. 

Ginny then looked Hermione up and down and smirked at her. “You’d think with how long you were in there you’d have at least taken the time to make yourself presentable. Do try and remember you’re a witch.” 

Hermione spluttered indignantly, but Ginny darted off as the door opened. Furious, Hermione spun in place and stomped downstairs to get back to her reading. 

Pansy grumbled a bit about Ginny pushing her aside, but continued on her way.

Ron looked her up and down and frowned. “What is this, a trend?”

Pansy frowned at him in confusion, but then looked at the line that was starting to form up behind Ron. 

“Yeah, looks like; must be something in the pumpkin juice.” She agreed, before continuing on her way.

Ginny stepped out of the bathroom and stretched, letting out a happy sigh. 

“Ah! That’s more like it! I feel so much better now!” 

Ron looked Ginny up and down and shook his head. “That’s good, I guess, because you look ridiculous. You’re completely mental.” He assured his sister before darting into the bathroom himself. 

Ginny scowled in outrage at the closed door, and vowed to get him later.  
 

Harry, Daphne and Tracey, hidden under notice-me-not charms sat in the corner of the room and watched as the kids eyed one another askance after returning from the bathroom. Everyone could see the people around them dressed in boring muggle clothes, but not themselves. They could see paranoia on some of the kids’ faces as they wondered how they were so far out of the loop, while others looked around with thinly-veiled horror or disgust, and still others just looked faintly disbelieving or bemused by the sudden fashion craze. It was quite amusing—especially so because everyone there thought everyone but themselves was wearing muggle clothing.   
The three kids laughed—quietly, as the sound did draw attention to them, even hidden beneath the notice-me-not charm as they were.

“I always wanted to be a trend-setter.” Daphne admitted.   
“Me too” Tracey agreed “Though I’ll be the first to admit I never pictured it happening like this.”   
 

 

   
Harry’s watch chimed four and he rose from his seat to go collect Luna, Colin, and Neville—who had expressed interest in going with them to Sir Nick’s party when he’d heard about it. 

“You guys ready?”

“Yep! I grabbed some extra film, and I did some reading to get some tips on how to make ghosts show up better. There’s a charm you can put on the lens of the camera. The book didn’t say whether or not it makes living people look odd. They’d have mentioned it if it did, don’t you think?”

“I really have no idea one way or another.” Harry admitted.

“I think it should be alright; I’ve seen pictures of people and ghosts standing next to each other.” Luna assured him.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“So, where is the party anyway?”

“It shouldn’t be too far from here—just a bit deeper in the dungeons than we are now. In fact, I think I hear…well, music, for lack of a better word.” 

All four could hear faintly discordant sounds drifting up to them from further down the hall, along with the sound of many voices. It was quieter than such a gathering of living people would have been—it was a soft murmur; more the memory of sound, than sound itself.  
Another thing they noticed was that the air was growing colder—a lot colder, in fact. Their breath began steaming in front of them as they walked, and they could see a faint tracery of frost on some of the stones. 

“Bugger this.” Harry muttered, pulling out his cloak. Neville pulled his out as well. Luna seemed unbothered by the cold. Colin, however, was shivering. “I l-left my cloak upstairs.” He admitted.

Harry dug out his hat, scarf and gloves and gave them to the younger boy. He took the hat and scarf, but refused the gloves. “I can’t take pictures well while wearing them. I’ll be alright—these help.”   
   
They arrived at the party, and stood in the doorway a moment, taking in the sight. Long tables had been set up and laden with spoiled food—the scent of rot hung over the room like a poisonous haze. The room was filled with dozens of nearly transparent, softly glowing forms. Harry spotted a group of gloomy looking nuns, the Hogwarts House ghosts, Professor Binns, a dejected-looking knight with an arrow through his head, another gloomy looking man laden about with chains, a portly fellow who was lingering near the food tables and inhaling the aroma as though it were the sweetest thing he’d ever smelled, as well as a dozen or so men and women in dress from different periods who were roaming about and talking quietly to one another. 

In the corner was an orchestra of thirty musical saws—the source of the quavering, dreadful music they’d heard. Around the room were jet black tapers with blue flames, and a chandelier filled with more blue-flamed candles burned over head. At one end of the room stood a podium highlighted by an icy blue spotlight. In the center of the room, with a fixed smile on his face, stood Gilderoy Lockhart. He was dressed to the nines—more so than usual, that is, and his hair looked freshly curled, and his teeth freshly polished. He seemed to be making the best of things, or trying to—he was holding court with a trio of ghostly ladies and doing his best to be charming and entertaining.   
   
Colin, being Colin, immediately began taking pictures of everyone in sight as he stepped into the room. 

“Ah, Harry my boy! And Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Creevey as well! Welcome, welcome!” Sir Nick greeted them as he drifted out of the crowd. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

“Ah, Nick, this is Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw. Luna, Sir Nicholas de Mimsey-Porpington.” Harry made the introductions.

“Hello. Thank you for inviting us to your party. My condolences.” 

“Ah, well thank you, young lady. We’ve had quite a turnout tonight, I don’t mind telling you—why, the wailing widow came out, all the way from Kent” Nick confided. “Happily, Sir-properly-decapitated-Podmore has yet to make an appearance—I didn’t invite him. Let’s hope he gets the message and stays away.” He added under his breath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really should open the festivities.”

Nick drifted to the lit-up podium and called for everyone’s attention.

“My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen…” 

They listened politely while Nick tooted his own horn, pointing out the press coverage, as well as the celebrities—both living and not—that had come out to celebrate his demise.

“How long do we have to stick around?” Neville asked out of the side of his mouth.

“Long enough to be polite, and for Luna to gather up the makings of a story or three. Not too long.” Harry assured him, his voice equally quiet.

“…and to round off the festivities this evening, we have a special treat for all of you. Hogwarts school has reformed the choir. They will be performing this evening in the great hall. So, everyone, please, enjoy yourselves…and thank you, once again, for coming out to help me celebrate my special day.” 

Polite applause sounded around the room.

“I guess we’d best go mingle.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The choir and puppeteer brigade have their first performances, a sudden attack rocks Hogwarts, the teachers redecorate and gossip...and Neville, Harry, Colin and Luna are accused of attempted murder with malice aforethought.

The Halloween feast was already in progress when they all arrived in the great hall. Luna and Colin both made delighted faces when they saw the decorations, and the more sumptuous than usual feast that was laid out. 

“Hmmm, Lockhart isn’t here yet; that’s weird, isn’t it? He left before we did.” Neville commented as they and Luna split to head to their separate tables. 

“Did he? I didn’t notice; I was chatting with the gloomy nuns. They all killed themselves rather than be captured by Vikings who were looting and pillaging in the area. The thing is, their religion considers suicide a sin, so they were all afraid they were going to hell in their final moments, and ended up as ghosts rather than face what was coming.”

“Wow. Surely it would have been better to just face whatever punishment they thought they had coming and get it over with though.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. I asked whether they couldn’t have just sucked it up and gotten it over with, but apparently the punishment for suicide is burning eternally in a fiery pit and being tormented by demons with no hope of reprieve. They were terrified of what the Vikings would do to them, and equally terrified of what their punishment would be, so they all ended up as ghosts and hanging out with wizards for eternity.”

“They must have been witches, or they wouldn’t have left ghosts though—muggles don’t.”

“Yeah, I asked about that too. They were all muggleborn. They took holy orders in the hopes of saving their immortal souls from the sin of witchcraft—their parents filled their heads with horror stories about how they were the spawn of the devil, and took them to the church to get rid of them, hoping they’d be cleansed, and the ‘devils’ driven out. They were so certain they were already damned for being witches, that the suicide thing was just icing on the cake of damnation so far as they were concerned. None of them went to Hogwarts or learned to harness their magic—it’s a bit ironic that they ended up keeping company with dead witches and wizards in their afterlife, and coming to Hogwarts. It’s the reason they’re all so gloomy; they’re all the more convinced they’re damned because of how they ended up. It’s sad, really.” 

   
They took their seats and began loading up their plates. Everyone began interrogating them about where they’d been and why they were late. Harry let Neville field the never-ending questions; he had far more patience than Harry did, and didn’t mind the nosiness as much. While keeping half an ear on Neville’s account of their evening, he tuned the rest of his attention onto the rest of the table, the parts he could hear, anyway, to see what everyone else was talking about.

_“It’s all true, I heard it from the portrait of Violet who heard it from Anne Boleyn, who heard it from Elfrieda the Enchantress. She overheard a couple of people talking about it in the halls. It’s horrible, isn’t it? I feel sorry for poor Harry…but then, I never quite knew what he saw in her anyway. He should find himself a nice Gryffindor girl.”_

Harry frowned internally upon hearing his name and listened more closely after taking a peek to see who was talking. It was Romilda Vane, one of Ginny’s roommates, telling another of their roommates and Parvati whatever story she was relating. Parvati’s usual gossip partner, Lavender, was still in the hospital.

_“That’s terrible…are you sure though? Cho doesn’t seem like the sort to be so faithless. I always thought they were very cute together.”_ Parvati objected.  
 _“That’s what I heard. She said she spent the whole day in Hogsmeade with Cedric Diggory and they seemed very cozy. I’m just telling you what I heard, don’t shoot the messenger.”_  
 _“I believe it.”_ Ginny said airily from a bit further down the table.  
 _“Big surprise there.”_ Parvati sneered, which set the other girls to snickering. 

   
Harry could feel his appetite disappearing, but he forced himself to keep eating and keeping a neutral face. He thought he succeeded as not even Neville asked him if anything was wrong. He managed to finish most of what was on his plate, but forwent seconds as he wasn’t sure he could choke it down. His nerves, which had lain quiescent most of the day, had erupted with a vengeance. He was performing in just another hour, something which had never gone well for him in the past. Even though he knew aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon wouldn’t be there that evening, and probably never even hear of the performance, it made no difference. The news about Cho was just another nail in the coffin. It was strange, really, that he hadn’t been more nervous about playing quidditch in front of a huge crowd. He could only assume that it was because one, it happened very suddenly, and two, he’d never played sports on a team while living with the Dursleys, and so had no specifically sports-related traumas to trip him up—a small mercy. 

When he spotted the first of the choir members rising from their seats to go get ready, his stomach gave a lurch. He could almost hear the chant of ‘freak’ sounding all around him. He dug a calming draught out and downed it surreptitiously, before rising as well to join them.   
   
“Merlin, I don’t know if I can do this. Everyone’s going to be staring at us, waiting for us to screw up.” Neville whispered as they headed towards the room that opened off the side of the great hall just off the teacher’s table. Harry slipped him a calming draught as well, which Neville downed gratefully. “You too?” he queried as he handed back the empty vial.

“Yeah” Harry agreed. “I don’t have any good memories of performing on stage.” 

Neville slanted a look his way and nodded. Neville was a good friend—he understood a lot without needing to have it spelt out in excruciating detail. Harry found he appreciated that quiet acceptance. He clapped Neville briefly on the shoulder and nodded. It was enough.

The rest of the choir was already inside, putting on their choir robes. Madame Perks had found some mention of traditional choir uniforms buried in an archive somewhere, and the house elves had practically begged for the chance to make them—it seems Hogwarts used to make a lot of things that they no longer did, and thus there had been several generations of house elves who had been trained up as tailors and seamstresses who had been unable to ply their trade. Professor McGonagall had been rather taken aback by the tearful joy and dancing that had resulted from her asking if any of them knew how to make the traditional choir robes, and had fled as soon as she’d extracted a promise they’d be made in time for the performance tonight. 

They had more than come through. The whole choir now had long robes in black with a white collar overtop that hung down in a point in the front and back. Each collar had the Hogwart’s crest emblazoned in the center. They were all the same—there were no house colors or crests on display—they were representing Hogwarts, not their individual houses within it. It just reinforced his belief that something had been amiss at Hogwarts for some time now—they had gotten rid of the choir, a non-competitive, feel-good activity that brought people together as students of Hogwarts, rather than as members of their separate houses in opposition to one another. There was nothing wrong with competition and rivalry—but if that’s all there was, it had a good chance of getting out of hand, which indeed it had. Hopefully, the re-forming of the choir would help offset some of the divisions that had sprung up in its absence. 

The fencing club was the same—there was a traditional Hogwarts uniform for that as well. Lucius had apparently mentioned offhand that in a year or two, once everyone had gotten a bit of training and experience under their belt, he might see about getting Hogwarts competing in the international fencing competitions again. Apparently Hogwarts had once regularly competed against Durmstrang and Beauxbatons in such competitions, and had once been renowned for the skill of its swordsmen. When, and under what circumstances, the two clubs had been dropped from the Hogwarts curriculum Harry didn’t know—their loss had probably begun the process of widening the rifts between houses though. 

“All right, everyone! Line up. Relax. You’ve practiced and trained…now it’s time to show everyone what you can do! Do me proud, children, I know you can do it!” 

When everyone was lined up, she went down the line and inspected everyone. Once satisfied, she peeked outside to see if everything was ready.

“Goodness, they’ve gone all out. They removed the tables and replaced them with rows of chairs. Everyone ready? All right, head out.”   
 

Just as Madame Perks had said, the great hall had been transformed. Hannah slanted a look at the crowd of curious students and teachers seated out in the hall and gulped nervously, before squaring her shoulders and making for the dais where the head table usually sat. It had been emptied and the stepped riser they had done their last few practices on had taken its place. 

After they were all in place, Madame Perks came out, bowed to the crowd, and took her place in front of them. Harry could see the ghosts from the party earlier floating around near the ceiling. He forced himself to ignore them, and the students and teachers watching, and concentrate on Madame Perks, who held up her hands and then signaled them to begin. 

They were performing a mixed bag of songs that evening—some traditional harvest songs, a couple of old wizarding ballads that spoke of lost loved ones coming back during Halloween to visit those they’d left behind, when the veil between life and death was thin, another old ballad lamenting those who’d passed on, as well as a couple of silly muggle songs that were popular around Halloween. They were going to finish up the evening with the Hogwarts school song—which had actual music that went with it, which Madame Perks had found buried in the same archive she’d found the choir robe designs. Why Dumbledore had been forcing students to sing it to their own tune—making an awful racket in the process—he would never understand. It was still a rather silly song—nowhere near as pretentious and dignified as school songs normally were—but it was sort of catchy when sung in unison to the proper music.   
   
Things seemed to be going well—the harvest songs were catchy, and the kids had gotten a kick out of ‘One-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple-people-eater’—so naturally, that’s when disaster struck.

“NEVER FEAR, NEVER FEAR! THE HEADLESS HUNT IS HERE!” 

“YAH!”

“HUP-HUP!” 

The choir fell silent in confusion when a dozen ghostly horses ridden by spectral horsemen- all of whom were carrying their disembodied heads in one arm, came charging into the great hall.  
Their confusion only mounted when the horsemen began charging around, tossing their heads to one another and doing tricks. 

“REALLY! NOW SEE HERE! YOU ARE COMPLETELY OUT OF LINE!” Sir Nick raged. “You were not only not invited, you’re interrupting the choir!” 

“I was quite enjoying it” one of the gloomy nuns confided. “I’ve not heard choral music since I lived at the abbey.” 

“Oh, quiet Nick, you wet-blanket you. No one cares what you think!” The bluff cheery leader—whom Harry could only surmise was Nick’s rival, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore—scoffed. Indeed, many of the kids in the audience were laughing and cheering the ghosts’ antics.

“Do you mind!” Madame Perks demanded. “The children worked very hard, and you’re ruining their show!” 

The Headless Hunt liked being the center of attention, and weren’t about to sit quietly. They turned their horses towards the choir and charged right through them. Harry gasped—it was all he could do to keep from letting out a yell like many of the others were doing—it was like being drenched in ice-water that went straight down to your bones.   
Sir Nick was wringing his hands, and the other Hogwarts ghosts were shaking their heads and looking disapproving, while the party-guests were watching the Hunt’s antics with amusement. 

Harry looked at Nick expectantly—Podmore was his rival, and it was his death day the guy had shown up to ruin. Nick saw his look and winced, drifting closer to speak to him quietly, while the Hunt began performing another show overhead.

“I can’t really do anything.” He apologized.

“Take his bloody head and steal his horse!” Harry huffed.

“Yeah! They’re ruining our show!” Pansy agreed. “They’re rude!”

“Go on, there’s more of you than there are of them. They just need someone to point the way.” Cedric Diggory agreed.

“You did say you wanted to get him for being so mean about you joining the hunt and all.” Harry added persuasively. 

“I don’t know…”

“Livened things up, haven’t we? Yeah, that old stick in the mud never could throw a good party!” Sir Patrick laughed.

Nick’s eyes narrowed and he began rising to Patrick’s level, swooping into place to grab his head on its next pass.

“THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH! YOU DO NOT BEHAVE IN SUCH AN UNCOUTH MANNER IN MY CASTLE ON MY DEATH DAY! EVERYONE! GET THEM! LET’S SHOW THESE RUFFIANS WHAT WE DO TO THOSE WHO DON’T PROPERLY APPRECIATE THE ARTS!” 

Moaning Myrtle snickered and flew up to knock Patrick’s body off his horse, which she then mounted. She pulled strongly on the reins and turned the horse’s head towards the door leading into the rest of the castle. She kicked another head away from its owner on her way out—it landed in the hands of the Bloody Baron, who caught it and shrugged. He followed Myrtle’s example and knocked the head’s owner off his horse. The Fat Friar grabbed the flailing body, while the Grey Lady took the horse. Elsewhere, the other party guests leapt upon the remaining horsemen, who were quite bewildered by the sudden turn of events. Through it all, Colin’s camera kept up a steady flash, recording everything. 

“HA! And you told me I wasn’t going to need my camera on me while we were singing!” Colin told Pansy smugly.

“My mistake.” She apologized.   
 

 

The teachers got the students back in their seats and quieted down; Madame Perks patted her ruffled hair and signaled the choir to get ready again. They were halfway through the first verse of “Can you hear me, sweet Albrecht”—an old wizarding ballad about a lovelorn girl wandering the Scottish moors in a daze on Halloween calling to her lost love—when Harry noticed a flustered and distraught Argus Filch hurry into the room. 

He tried speaking to several of the teachers, but they kept shushing him. He finally took a seat, but he still looked upset and fidgety—tapping his toes and drumming his fingers on his knees, all the while casting exasperated looks at the staff. Come to think of it, he still didn’t see Lockhart anywhere—he’d never shown up to the feast, and now he was missing the choir performance as well. It seemed odd—he’d been bragging that he was a patron of the arts while at Sir Nick’s party earlier. He couldn’t imagine why he’d have missed it—it wasn’t like there was normally all that much to do at Hogwarts; a performance like this was a rare treat. 

They finished up “Can you hear me” and launched immediately into a rousing rendition of “Alas, my love has gone a’fore me”—another old wizarding ballad, this time about a man lamenting his wife’s demise from a virulent strain of dragon pox, which she’d hadn’t gotten as a child, and so was badly affected by.   
   
They finished up “Alas..” and launched immediately into their final number of the evening before the singing of the school song “Will this battle never end?” 

It was a lovely song, though one they sometimes referred to as “Will this song never end”—it was a long medieval epic ballad about a pair of lovers who eloped, only to have the girl’s father rouse up his army to hunt them down. The young lover, who was a prince of some sort, roused his own warriors to meet them in battle. The battle raged on for seven days and seven nights—and then the warriors rose up as ghosts to keep battling. The princess, bereft at the death of her beloved, killed herself and rose up as a ghost as well so they could still be together. The castle servants, not wanting to stay in a castle full of ghosts, but also not wanting to give up their cushy jobs on the Prince’s island paradise, cooked up a poisoned feast and killed themselves as well—while simultaneously living the high life for a single evening. They too rose as ghosts and live in the castle to this day. Written as it was in medieval times, it not only told the story of the doomed lovers and their tragic fate, there were also several verses enumerating the many valorous deeds and qualities of the different knights who fought. There was also a long ode to the beauty of the princess, and the love she and her doomed prince shared. It was a lovely piece, but it did take a very long time to perform. 

Filch heard the opening lines and blanched, looking ready to tear his hear out. He cast a desperate look at the teachers, but they were tapping their feet and nodding their heads to the music—and studiously ignoring him. He slumped in place looking ready to cry. 

Twenty-five minutes later—they had sung the shortened version that just hit all the highlights, not the full epic which took over two hours to perform—the last notes of the song died out. 

Madame Perks waited for the applause to die down and then smiled at the crowd. “Now, for our final song of the evening, we’ll be performing the Hogwart’s school song”

The teachers, and many of the students, blanched in horror.

“Sing along if you like, once you’ve gotten the melody.” 

The teachers all frowned and then turned to glare at Dumbledore, who shifted in his seat, and twinkled at them in his usual infuriating way. 

It was not to be, however, for at that moment, Argus Filch jumped up from his seat.

“I CANNA TAKE ANYMORE! PROFESSOR LOCKHART IS LYING DEAD IN HIS OFFICE AND NO ONE'S DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT! NONE OF YE WILL LET ME SPEAK! IT'S A TRAVESTY!” he howled. 

For a moment there was nothing to be heard but shocked, ringing silence—and then complete pandemonium. 

Dumbledore fired off a loud bang from his wand and held up his hands for silence. “Prefects, escort your houses to the common rooms. No dawdling. Do a head count, if you please.” 

Madame Perks wrung her hands and sought her daughter, Sally, wondering what to do.

As the students, all chattering and speculating about what was going on, began to leave, Dumbledore continued giving orders.

“Minerva, Severus you’re with me. The rest of you, I beg your indulgence for the moment. We will have a staff meeting to discuss our findings once we have something to tell all of you. Pomona, do look after Mrs. Perks for the moment, would you? I imagine she would like to be getting home.” 

Orders given, he McGonagall and Snape stalked out of the great hall, following Mr. Filch who seemed much happier, now that everyone was listening to him.   
   
“If you’re looking to leave, deary, I’m afraid you’re going to have to go the long way and floo from Hogsmeade. You can only access the outside from Albus’ floo—that’s how the system is set up, and he didn’t open it.” sprout apologized.

“Leave?! I won’t be leaving until I know what’s going on—my daughter is here!” Mrs. Perks objected.

“He did say there was going to be a staff meeting.” Flitwick pointed out. “As the choir director, she is technically a member of the staff. “Were I in her place, I’d want to know what was going on as well.”

“Too right you would. Anyway Pomona, it’s rather senseless sending the poor girl out into the cold at this time of night to wander down the mountain; it will actually be quicker to just wait for the headmaster to open the floo in his office.” Vector objected.

“Yes, really—you could easily break a leg, tromping about in the dark.” Babbling agreed.

“I suppose we’d best retire to the teacher’s lounge while we wait—Albus and the others will likely head there once they’ve concluded their investigation if there’s to be a meeting.” Sprout realized.

“It’s all settled then.” 

Having settled upon their course of action, the remaining teachers, as well as Madames Pince, Hooch and Perks, made their way to the teacher’s lounge. Mrs. Perks, who’d never been in the teacher’s lounge before, looked around in dismay.

“I always wondered, when I was a student here, what the teacher’s areas looked like—I always assumed it’d be grander.” she admitted.

The teachers laughed disbelievingly.

“Grand? Oh, the castle is grand enough, but no, we live a rather Spartan existence here. This is pretty typical.” Flitwick chuckled.

Mrs. Perks looked around at the unadorned grey stone walls, the battered old wooden table, and the equally battered simple hard wooden chairs that surrounded it and shook her head.

“Why haven’t you ever done anything with it? I mean, goodness! You’re witches and wizards, aren’t you? What’s more, you all live in the one place on earth guaranteed to have no muggles about! This is sad, this place—not in the least inviting, and hardly a place you want to linger in. How do you stand it?”

“Well, it’s not like any of us spends much time here—just the occasional teacher’s meeting.” Professor Burbage shrugged.

“It’s the teacher’s lounge though, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s what it’s called.”

“It’s supposed to be a place for you all to gather after classes are over so you can socialize if it takes your fancy. Why, the teacher’s lounge at my muggle primary school was rather nice, really—much like here, it was nothing fancy, but goodness, it was certainly more inviting. They had a sink for water, and a large urn of coffee, and cabinets to keep snacks, and a refrigerator so everyone could keep their lunch fresh. They would gather there between classes to drink coffee and talk, and they had their meetings there as well.” She explained while inspecting one of the battered wooden chairs. “There aren’t even cushioning charms on these things! No wonder no one ever lingers. Why didn’t you all turn them into something nicer?”

“It’s not our property to just be messing about with, willy-nilly.” Sprout pointed out.

“Surely you’re not serious? Look at these things—they’re as basic and as cheaply made a table and chairs as one could hope to find. They were obviously intended to be made nicer! After all, why go to the trouble and expense of making anything fancy when you can just make it so later?” 

“I think the girl speaks sense.” Madame Hooch offered.

“Well…yes, she does…it’s still not our property though.”

“How ridiculous.” Mrs. Perks sighed, as she hit one of the chairs with a cushioning charm and sat herself down. “But, alright…you don’t want to be presumptuous and transfigure anything—do you mean to tell me there are no comfortable chairs anywhere in the castle that can be swapped out? And where do all of you socialize, if not here?”

A few more of the teachers, defiantly, followed Mrs. Perks’ lead and made their own chairs more comfortable while they settled in to wait. 

“Who has time to socialize?” Flitwick laughed. “We have classes all day every day, just about. When we’re not in classes, we’re grading papers or eating meals.”

“That’s awful, really—above and beyond, if you ask me. Even at a boarding school, the teachers shouldn’t have so many students that they can’t have even a modicum of a social life. I really don’t see why they don’t have more teachers—for the core classes if nothing else. There really are far too many students at Hogwarts to expect a single teacher to look after all of them.”

“With all the budget constraints we’re usually under, I’m sorry to say that is highly unlikely to ever happen.” Flitwick sighed. 

The other teachers sighed and nodded sadly.

“This is too depressing…what do you all think happened with Lockhart?” Professor Vector wondered.

“Do you think he had one of dem things in his brain? What’dya call ‘em? Wrackspurts?” Stan Shunpike asked. “Did ‘e live in a muggle area? It just goes to show you, doesn’t it? No good comes from mixing with muggles. It’s just like my mum used to say—if we was intended to live with them, they’d a been wizards too, wouldn’t they?”

“Well, really! What a terrible thing to say! You should be ashamed.” Charity Burbage scolded angrily. “There’s nothing wrong with muggles.”

“He just said no good came of mixing with them--which, sadly, in many cases is true.” Mrs. Perks responded.

“Really Betty! I’m surprised at you! You should be ashamed as well!” 

“Why? It’s only the truth. I’m muggleborn, same as you are, you know. It can be a very difficult balancing act—and that’s without such things as death eaters or blood wars going on. I mean just in general.” 

“That’s hardly the point…”

“Anyway, we were talking about Lockhart. My money’s on an obsessive fan.” Vector interjected.

“Magical exhaustion from excessive use of grooming charms.” Flitwick added.

“Filius!” the rest of them laughed.

“What? It’s a perfectly valid suspicion. He had about a thousand grooming charms scattered throughout his books. If he used even half of them each morning I daresay he would have been quite exhausted—add in teaching a full complement of classes on top of it, and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he hadn’t enough magic left to keep himself alive!”

“Well…I did have a few students claim he couldn’t do magic…which is ridiculous, of course. He was a Ravenclaw, and he was a passable if not inspired student during his time here. He certainly can do magic—huh, maybe there’s something to what you’ve said, Filius.” Sprout allowed.

   
   
Albus Dumbledore stopped dead in the doorway of the staff lounge, almost causing Filch, and Professors Snape and McGonagall to run into his back. They soon learned why: the whole staff was present, and they were sipping coffee, tea and hot chocolate, snacking on biscuits and small cakes while gossiping like a flock of old hens. The atmosphere was almost partylike—a far cry from the grim purpose for which they had gathered. 

“Ah, Albus! What’s the verdict? Did he really exhaust himself to death casting too many grooming charms?” Professor Babbling asked.

“He didn’t leave a ghost did he?” Sprout asked.

“Perish the thought!” Flitwick shuddered.

Snape nudged Dumbledore in the back to get him moving. Dumbledore moved into the room, the others following. He cast a disapproving look at everyone over his glasses, but he was being mostly ignored in favor of the snacks, and exclamations from Snape and McGonagall over how comfortable the chairs were.

“Cushioning charms. Don’t know why no one thought to do that before.” Hooch answered. “I certainly would have if I had to sit on them for meetings.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and got everyone’s attention. Once he was sure he had it, he conjured his favorite flowered armchair—the most comfortable chair he’d ever sat on, and the only thing he’d bothered saving from his childhood home—it had once been his mother’s; and sat himself down. The assembled staff got themselves in order and settled down, eager to hear what calamity had befallen their colleague. Dumbledore sat quiet for a moment to let suspense build, but was interrupted again before he could speak by the sound of the front door opening and the sound of voices in the entryway. The sound carried especially well as the children were all tucked away in their common rooms, so the usual dull roar of voices was absent. 

Dumbledore glanced at McGonagall, who was already hurrying out to see who had come to the castle at this late hour. She returned moments later with Lucius Malfoy, Arcturus Black and Augusta Longbottom in tow. 

“Oh, good, everyone is here. I wasn’t looking forward to tromping all over the castle looking for answers—bad enough we had to come all this way at this time of night.” 

“Might I ask what brings you to Hogwarts?”

“I should think that would be obvious. What happened to Gilderoy Lockhart?”

“How on earth did you hear about that already? We haven’t even gotten to hear it yet!” Sprout exclaimed.

“My son called me” Lucius replied as he removed his cloak and gloves and conjured a seat for himself upon seeing there were no chairs left.

Dumbledore slanted an amiable glance Snape’s way. Snape was certain he was the only one who could see the deep-seated annoyance in his eyes. 

“Severus? I wasn’t aware you had rigged up the Slytherin floo to make outgoing calls.”

“I haven’t. I honestly wouldn’t have a clue how to do so.”

“No, he called me on this” Lucius held up a cell phone. “It’s a rather useful little device. I honestly wasn’t too sure about it at first, but it has come in handy a number of times already. It certainly has made keeping track of my muggle businesses easier—I no longer have to make regular forays into the muggle world. It was worth it for that alone.” 

“Oh…I’ve seen a number of the children with those contraptions. What is it?” Sprout realized.

“It’s a cell phone"

"What on earth are you doing with a cell phone? Wait…the children have them? The students you mean?” Professor Burbage demanded.

“Oh, that’s right, you’re not usually here for mealtimes. Yes, a number of the children have them. We’ve seen them using them in the great hall. We assumed it was some sort of toy.” Flitwick agreed.

“No…it’s a telephone, a portable one.” Professor Burbage replied, sounding utterly gobsmacked.

“As fascinating as all this is, I should like to know what happened to the DADA teacher.” Augusta interjected. “What killed him?”

“I think we should all like to know that.” Arcturus agreed.

Dumbledore sat back, and cast a rebuking glance at the assembled teachers.

“I’m sure you’ll all be _relieved and delighted_ to know that young Gilderoy is not dead, he’s simply been petrified.”

“Good lord, don’t tell me some of those bloody acromantulas got into the castle? I thought they’d gotten all of them—it took them the whole summer with a team of thirty as it was.” Arcturus grumbled.

“Acromantula? What on earth are you talking about?” Professor Babbling demanded.

“There were no acromantulas, so far as we’ve been able to determine. The culprit was a baby basilisk, which our Mr. Filch presented to Professor Lockhart that accidentally resulted in him being petrified.”

“Where in blazes did you get a basilisk? I do hope you’re not planning on making a habit of this sort of behavior.” Augusta spluttered.

“Basilisks have to be made. This is very troubling indeed—the mere presence of a basilisk speaks of malicious intent…the fact that all of Hogwarts chickens were wiped out a few weeks ago is chilling in hindsight. Whoever did this was determined to see their pet wreak havoc on a wide scale, with no way to easily be rid of it!” Professor Kettleburn spoke up, sounding sick.

“All the chickens were wiped out? I don’t recall hearing anything about that.” Lucius said in interest.

“ What does that have to do with anything?” Hooch wondered.

“The slaughter of the chickens wasn’t really widely advertised. Our Mr. Shunpike assured me it was a wild animal attack of some sort. We had chicken for dinner for a few nights a few weeks back when it happened. We had a large enough stockpile of eggs that their loss wasn’t really noted by the students—though I daresay it will be if the eggs run out before we acquire more chickens.” McGonagall explained.

“What sort of animal attacks and wipes out such a number of chickens, and leaves them behind rather than devouring them? That doesn’t even make any sense.” Augusta barked in annoyance.

“It were a flesh-eating bugbear.” Stan replied.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Flesh-eating bugbear. I found it in Mr. Hagrid’s book.”

“Hagrid’s book? What book?” Snape asked in confusion.

“His book o’ animals and such that can be found hearabouts. It’s been a great help to me in doing me job.” 

“Son, I hate to tell you this, but there’s no such thing as a bugbear.” Kettleburn sighed. 

“Where did this book come from? Hagrid’s hut burned down.” Lucius wondered.

Everyone turned to look at Dumbledore for answers.

“I made his book fireproof several years back. I didn’t realize there were entries about bugbears…I was under the impression it was the instructions for the feeding and care of the various animals he was responsible for.” 

“I should like to see this book, if you don’t mind.” Kettleburn interjected.

“It’s back in me cottage.” 

“If we could get back to the basilisk? How did you happen upon the thing, Mr. Filch?” Arcturus demanded.

“Mrs. Norris heard it and came to get me. We was warned there was a dangerous snake in the castle several weeks ago. She kept the warning in mind and came and got me rather than chance getting bit or eaten. The snake-catching doohickey Stan gave me worked a treat—I grabbed it from a distance. Professor Lockhart’s quarters were right nearby, and I’d just seen him heading in there not long before—he was dressed up all fancy-like…more’n usual, I mean. I knocked on his door and held the thing up to ask him to vanish it for me, but he started screaming and backing up…then, something shot out of the snake’s eyes and he fell over like ‘e was dead. I swear the cursed snake got bigger when it happened. Well, after all that, I wasn’t taking any chances. I dropped it in a drawer and barricaded it, and set Mrs. Norris to guarding it, then I went to alert the professors.” 

“First of all, who is Mrs. Norris?”

“She’d be my cat.”

“I see. Alright, you said you were warned about a dangerous snake. Who warned you?”

“That’d be young Harry Potter. He said he heard the thing but didn’t see it nowhere, so ‘e didn’t know what kind it was. He told me about it and told me to warn Mrs. Norris to be wary, as it might be dangerous. Tonight was the first time either of us actually came across it. I’d just about decided the boy was making sport o’ us. I feel a might guilty now…Mrs. Norris might be the one sitting in the hospital wing right now…or me, for that matter.”

“Mr. Potter encountered the basilisk several weeks ago…that is troubling.” Dumbledore sighed.

“It certainly is! He’s just a wee boy, not a grown man like Lockhart. He might have been killed!” McGonagall agreed, aghast.

Dumbledore’s lips tightened for a brief moment, then his face went placid and thoughtful once more.

“We need to discover who might have set the creature loose; this cannot be allowed to go unpunished. The creation of a basilisk is highly illegal, as it speaks of malice. The slaughter of the chickens speaks of a rather frightening level of malice—the perpetrator obviously intended to slaughter everyone in the castle!” he continued, sounding sorrowful.

“I feel it should be mentioned that we found a rooster in Lockhart’s quarters. It was in a cage, under a silencing spell.” Snape interjected.

“Now, now Severus. Until Lockhart is restored and has been questioned, we must at least entertain the possibility that he is being framed.” Dumbledore chided.

Both he and McGonagall looked at Dumbledore in shock, though McGonagall pulled herself together and nodded briskly. “Of course, it’s just as you say. We’ve all learned to our detriment that no good comes of simply throwing a man in jail without the proper level of investigation.”

“I will concur…though I admit it looks bad for our erstwhile professor.” Arcturus interjected mildly. 

“When will he be available for questioning?” Augusta demanded. “That is…if the condition is reversible.”

“Not till year’s end, I’m afraid. We have a crop of mandrakes, but they’ll not be ready for several months yet.” Snape replied.

“Well then, let us speak of practicalities—we are currently without a DADA teacher…it seems to be a recurring theme at this school.” Lucius sighed.

“Yes, sadly enough it does—though they do usually manage to last the year. I will admit I’m at something of a loss; Gilderoy was the only applicant for the position this year. I’m not confident that we’ll be able to find someone to replace him on such short notice.” Dumbledore agreed.

“Simply arrange to have one of the ghosts babysit the students during class time, but make sure the students have a list of goals they’re expected to have met by year’s end. From what my grandson has told me, the children had very little confidence in Lockhart’s abilities as a teacher—they’ve been going the self-study route already.” Arcturus suggested.

“Yes, I’ve heard as much from my grandson.” Augusta agreed.  
“My son as well.” Lucius added.

McGonagall sighed and shook her head. “One of the students approached me after the first class of the year to tell me as much. He showed me Lockhart’s first test—sixty questions about himself. I had a talk with the man and insisted he follow the curriculum so the students would have some chance of passing their OWLs and NEWTs at least. I had hoped there would be some improvement.” 

“I don’t know about the other years, but I know he has a student teaching the second years.” 

“Oh? Which student?” Dumbledore asked curiously.

“Hermione Granger. She’s generally regarded as a bit of an insufferable know-it-all.” Lucius drawled.

“My grandson and some of the other children have devised a sort of study game which they’ve been using to keep on track with DADA, so I have no real worries on that score—I was quite pleased with his grades from last year.”

“Ah yes, the infamous study game. I have no real concerns for Draco’s DADA studies this year either. I suppose someone should check in on the OWL and NEWT students from time to time till year’s end to make sure they’ve gotten what they need, but otherwise I think leaving them to self-study with supervision will hold them for the year while we search for a replacement instructor.” 

“Very well, I suppose all that’s left then is to choose a ghost to watch the classes.”

“The Fat Friar” McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout answered in unison.

“Well then, I guess that’s settled then. I do hope the ghosts haven’t wandered too far.” Dumbledore nodded.

The teachers all winced—they’d almost forgotten they’d all run off with the ghostly horses after attacking the headless hunt.

“Never a dull moment at Hogwarts, is there?” Arcturus snorted.  
   
   
The gathered Gryffindors turned as one when the portrait door opened and Professor McGonagall stepped through.

“Is there a murderer loose in the castle?”  
“Did he get taken out by an obsessive fan?”  
“No! A jealous lover!”  
“Na, it was the cubs of the waga waga werewolf, out for revenge!”  
“Vampires!”  
“Yetis!”  
“It was probably a bloody Cornish pixie. I bet it hung him from a chandelier and he smothered or something.”

“Children! CHILDREN!” McGonagall shouted. Little by little the crowd fell silent. McGonagall fixed the crowd with a stern glare for good measure.

“First of all, Professor Lockhart is not dead, he’s been petrified. Unfortunately, the mandrakes needed for the restorative draught that will fix him will not be ready until year’s end.”

“Why don’t you just use some aging solution on one of the half-grown ones?” Harry asked curiously.

Professor McGonagall appeared rather taken aback that one of the children had dared interrupt her and drew herself up haughtily.

“I’m sure such a solution was already debated, Mr. Potter, by persons older and wiser than yourself. I can only assume that if such a measure was decided against it was with good reason.” She sniffed, while fixing him with an uncompromising stare over her glasses. 

“Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted, as Professor Lockhart is going to be indisposed for the remainder of the school year, your DADA classes will be overseen from here on out by the Fat Friar. You will be given a packet to work through at your own pace that will cover the highlights of what you are supposed to learn through whichever year you are currently in. OWL and NEWT students will be having monthly meetings with a teacher to go over any problem areas or concerns you might have with the subject. A schedule will be posted later in the week. We will do everything in our power to see that you get through your tests successfully and with as little difficulty as possible.” 

“How was Lockhart petrified?” Dean wondered.

“Professor Lockhart ran afoul of a baby basilisk.”

Almost as if her words had conjured it, the sound of a rooster’s crow echoed through the walls.

“As you’ve just heard, steps are being taken to be certain there are no more of the foul beasts about. Professor Lockhart was extremely lucky that the beast was a juvenile and did not yet have the strength to kill a full grown man. You may all rest easy, as the problem has been taken care of, and steps are being taken to restore Professor Lockhart to health. Now, all of you to bed; lights out is in ten minutes.” 

   
Hermione was about to head up to bed when she noticed Harry and Colin Creevey whispering in a corner. Colin was his usual manic self, talking excitedly about something or other, when Harry suddenly looked angry and made an abrupt motion with his hand. Colin deflated and looked apologetic. Harry scanned the room to see if anyone was listening in to them—Hermione dropped her eyes and gathered up some books that were laid out on the coffee table into a pile, as though she were getting ready to take them—they weren’t hers, but Harry didn’t know that.

As she straightened, she saw Harry hiss something warningly to Colin who nodded glumly. 

There was a crowd of girls heading upstairs in ones and twos, chattering about Lockhart and the basilisk and wondering what sort of teacher the Fat Friar was going to be. She lingered, acting like she was simply waiting for the crowds to thin out so she could go upstairs as well. She wanted to see if there were any more odd conversations.  
Neville, who’d been talking with Fred and George, meandered towards Harry as he headed for the stairs.

“So…no more Lockhart. It’s kind of weird to know we were the last ones to see him alive. Well, us and Luna.”

“He’s not dead, remember?”

“Oh, right. It’s just, we spent the last hour or two thinking he was dead. I guess it hasn’t quite sunk in yet, especially as he’s not going to be teaching for the remainder of the year.”

“He got lucky.”

“Did you know a baby basilisk couldn’t kill?”

“No. The book where I read about them didn’t mention that. It said it was ‘an unnatural creature, inimical to all life’. I never really thought about it one way or another, but I suppose if I had, I would have assumed it could kill from birth, since it’s a created thing, not a natural born thing. Learn something new every day, huh?”  
 

 

“Mr. Potter?”

Harry blinked blearily at McGonagall—he’d only just gotten into bed, and had been just about to fall asleep.

“Professor?”

“Get up Mr. Potter and head down to the common room please. I will be with you in a moment.”

“What’s going on, Professor?”

“All will be made clear. Common room, Mr. Potter.” 

Feeling rather put upon, Harry groped for his dressing gown and slippers—the castle’s floors were terribly cold even in springtime. He could hear Professor McGonagall urging Neville out of bed as well.

“Professor McGonagall? What’s going on? Are there more basilisks?” Seamus demanded.

“Go back to sleep, Mr. Finnegan, this does not concern you.” 

“Are there more basilisks?”

“No, Mr. Thomas, there are not. Go back to sleep.” 

Neville and Harry shuffled after McGonagall and were confused when she stopped at the first year boy’s dorm. “Common room. I shall be along in a moment.” 

The boys huffed a bit and headed down to the common room, which was nearly dark, but for the light of the fire. Harry heard a small noise and turned his head, only to spot a bit of bushy hair peeking out from the bottom of the girls’ staircase. Harry’s eyes narrowed, but he was prevented from going over there by the arrival of Professor McGonagall and a sleepy and disheveled Colin Creevey.

“Come along now, quickly. No talking.” McGonagall urged, chivvying them ahead of her. Harry swore he could hear footsteps running up the girls’ staircase as they left. 

“The door won’t open, Professor.” Colin spoke up.

“Oh, for the love of…stand aside.”

McGonagall tapped the frame with her wand, and the door swung open. She took the lead and began striding briskly down the hallway. It was eerily quiet—all the portraits were gone from their frames, though they could hear the chatter of many voices echoing from elsewhere in the castle.

They arrived at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster’s tower.

“Gummy worms” McGonagall said crisply, though they could detect the faintest hint of exasperation in her voice. 

“Professor? Where are we going?” Neville demanded as they stepped onto the rotating staircase behind her.

“The Headmaster’s office.” Harry grumbled behind him.

McGonagall knocked once on the wooden door at the top of the staircase and opened it, stepping through and standing aside so the three boys could follow her.

“Luna?” Neville questioned. “Um…not to be rude or anything…but…what the hell is on your head?”

Luna Lovegood was standing in front of the headmaster’s desk, clad only in a long white nightgown and fuzzy slippers. On top of her head she had a pyramid-shaped contraption with a dream catcher hanging to either side of her head off a bar that rose out of the top of the pyramid.

“Hey, you got your cosmic ray gatherer. How’s that working out for you?”

“It’s been interesting so far. I’ve had the most interesting dreams.”

“Did it come with the dream catchers already attached?”

“No, that was my own addition. I’m trying to filter out negative influences.”

“Probably a good idea.” Harry agreed.

“If we could get to the matter at hand.” Dumbledore said sternly.

Colin began snoring lightly, only to snort and gasp when he nearly fell over. Harry and Neville caught him and propped him up between them.

“Huh? Whazzat?” Colin muttered while raising his hands as though taking a picture. 

McGonagall closed her eyes and cringed, while Professor Flitwick, who was also there, in a flannel nightshirt, dressing gown and jaunty fez looked sympathetic, as though he prefer to be sleeping at the moment as well. 

“I should rather like to know what’s going on myself. The message I received asking for Miss Lovegood was rather short on details.” Flitwick huffed.

“Minerva?”

McGonagall sighed and straightened her shoulders. “I was approached earlier by a student who overheard a disturbing conversation. The student said they overheard Messrs. Longbottom and Potter discussing a basilisk they’d bred, and their disappointment that it was apparently too young to kill Professor Lockhart. Mr. Creevey was apparently standing there as part of the group, and that Mr. Potter threatened him into silence just before the conversation took place. The student also said they claimed to have been the last persons to see Professor Lockhart alive. What’s more, they pointed to motive on the part of Mister Potter.”

“Those are rather serious accusations.” Flitwick murmured, sounding quite aghast. “Though again, I must inquire for what purpose Miss Lovegood was brought here.” 

“Messrs. Potter, Longbottom and Creevey were all together and mysteriously absent from the beginning of the Halloween Feast, and Miss Lovegood was with them. They said that the four of them were the last to see him alive.” 

Flitwick turned to the students with a grave face. “Do any of you have anything to say for yourselves?”

“Yep…first of all, I think everyone here has the right to know their accuser—namely Hermione Granger. I saw her hiding on the girls’ staircase as we were being led out.”

McGonagall’s lips thinned in annoyance—she had told the girl to go to bed.

“Second of all, we were not discussing a basilisk we’d bred, we were discussing basilisks in general—specifically, that we didn’t know they weren’t instantly deadly, as the book we read about them in didn’t say so—it said they were inimical to all life. I expressed the thought that, had I really considered the matter at all, I would have assumed they were instantly deadly as it was a created creature. The book didn’t give any indication that they grew and changed just like a naturally born creature.”

“It wasn’t likely to have done so. I doubt many people have made them, so it was probably mostly rumor and speculation” Luna interjected placidly.

“The information I was reading was supposed to have been compiled from the notes of Herpo the Foul, who both created a basilisk and was a parselmouth. You’d think his notes would have been more complete. Now, granted, it was quite informative, but it still seems a rather glaring oversight.”

“Yes, it was. I was actually thinking of writing to the publisher to have them note the additional information in a later edition. It’s important to add to the body of collected knowledge so that others can benefit from your experience.” 

“I agree. We should do that.” 

“Moving on.” Dumbledore interjected. 

“Hermione accused all of us of making a basilisk and trying to off one of the professors?” Neville said quietly. 

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. She accuses me of being evil all the time, and she did hex you just the other day.” 

“Where were you when the feast started?” Flitwick inquired.

“At Sir Nick’s Death Day party, as was Professor Lockhart, which Hermione should know as we were telling everyone about it at dinner. We weren’t ‘mysteriously’ absent, we were on our way back from the party. Professor Lockhart left before we did, and we noted his absence when we arrived in the great hall. We had wondered if he’d gotten distracted while telling the ghosts how awesome he was and had eaten some of the rotted food and had gotten sick, as he’d stated his intention to get changed and go to the Halloween feast.” 

“Why were you researching basilisks?”

“For an article that will be coming out later this week in the Quibbler. We can’t tell you anything more, as we all signed a non-disclosure agreement. We want people to buy the paper, after all.” Luna replied. 

“Anything else?”

“I will admit I am troubled that you were apparently the only person that seems to have known there was a snake loose in the castle that was possibly dangerous, Mr. Potter.” 

“I’m probably the only parselmouth in the castle—I’m certain that makes a big difference.” 

McGonagall blanched, Flitwick’s eyes widened. Dumbledore gave a long slow blink and his face went smooth, giving no real clue to what he was thinking.

Flitwick eyed the rest of the children curiously. “I notice none of you seem surprised by this information.” He said cautiously.

“What’s a parselmouth?” Colin wondered while rubbing his eyes.

“It means I can speak to snakes.”

“Oh that. I didn’t know it had a name. That’s what all the weird noises and hissing were then?”

“Yeah.” 

“Might I enquire for what reason you were speaking parseltounge?” 

“Non-disclosure agreement.” The kids said in unison.

“You mentioned that you were a parselmouth in the paper? Why would you do that?” McGonagall whispered sounding horrified.

“If you read the article you’ll understand. I don’t know why people get so bent out of shape about it—I can talk to snakes, big whoop. It’s a quirk of genetics, it’s not like I really had any choice in the matter.”  
   
Dumbledore looked for a moment as though he would speak, and then thought better of it.

“Now what’s this about me having motive to off Lockhart?” Harry demanded.

“It was pointed out that you stood to inherit quite a lot from Lockhart’s demise as you’re his only living relative.”

Harry blanched. “He’s a relative? Through the Dursleys?”

McGonagall looked at him like he was quite mad. “Through the Potters. He’s a wizard.”

“So am I, and my mother was a witch.”

“But aren’t your relatives all muggles.” Flitwick wondered.

“If you’d met them, you’d know why he thought that. They’re all blonde, very concerned with appearances and tend to brag a lot.” Neville explained.

“So he’s a relative through the Potters? How the hell does Hermione know this and I don’t?”

“That’s right, you never read any of his books, did you? It’s in his autobiography, Magical Me in the chapter dealing with his notable relatives. Well, that’s what you get for not doing the required reading.” Luna chided.

“I got all the spells out of all the books and even learned how to do them, just in case we had to do them in class as part of the practicals. I now know enough grooming charms that I could probably open a salon.” Harry grumbled. “Why didn’t anyone mention the whole relative thing?”

“They probably assumed you knew.”

“Raised by muggles, why do people always forget that? Hell, I didn’t know my parent's names till I started school here—and it’s not like Aunt Petunia would have known my father’s relatives even if she was willing to acknowledge or name any of them. Geez, I can’t believe Hermione—she bloody well knew I didn’t read the books, and she knew damned well I had no idea Lockhart was a relative.”

 Flitwick and McGonagall exchanged a disquieted look when Harry finished—all the children had been quite up front and candid in their answers; they were either monsters the like of which neither of them had ever seen or imagined—or they were completely innocent of any wrongdoing.

“I believe we’ve heard enough. Why don’t you children run along to bed?” Dumbledore said

“Not so fast.” Harry objected, halting the others in their tracks. “I want to know what’s going to be done about Hermione and her tendency to make wild accusations against people…and also, I want to know what steps you’re going to take to quell the calvacade of rumors the portraits are all gleefully exchanging right now. Judging by the fact that all the portraits in the vicinity of Gryffindor tower were missing when we were called out, Hermione had a huge hysterical fit in the middle of the hallway while slinging accusations left, right and center.”

Neville paled, imagining the scene in the morning at breakfast.

“Merlin, you’re right—everyone is going to be convinced we’re guilty come morning, because all the portraits will make a point to tell everyone how evil we are as they’re leaving their common rooms!”

“They do have a point, Albus.” Flitwick agreed gravely, before turning to face the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses that lined the upper part of the room. “I don’t suppose you fine ladies and gentlemen could stir yourselves to help quell the worst of the wild speculation, would you?” 

Phinneas Nigellus had already left his frame to go wandering; the rest of the headmasters grumbled a bit, but left within a few minutes as well. 

“Thank you, Professor.” Harry said gratefully.

“Why don’t you all run along to bed now, it’s getting late.” 

This time, all four kids left without protest.   
   
“We’ll walk you to Ravenclaw, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.”

They set off down the hall, Colin yawning every few feet, Neville lost in brooding contemplation, Luna humming a little tune…and Harry digging out his cellphone and calling his godfather.

He walked along listening for a moment, and then his eyebrows rose.

“Hello Adeline, could I speak to my godfather please?...Actually, since you’re already on the line, do you happen to know much about slander laws?”

He listened quietly for a moment and nodded. “I see, no matter, I was just curious.” 

He listened for a bit longer and then brightened. “Sirius…calm down, I’m fine. I’ll explain…if you would let me talk…Sirius…Sirius… thank you. I’m not in bed because I’m just now leaving the headmaster’s office. If you’d give me a chance to explain, geez.” 

Harry explained what had happened, Hermione’s accusations, and his demands that something be done about the rumors. 

“What I need from you is this—I want the Grangers out of my house. Please give them my apologies, as they have never done anything to me that I’m aware of, but I want them out by Christmas. I cannot stomach the idea of that girl living in my house after what she just did. Secondly, I want to know specifics about slander laws and whether I have any recourse should this sort of behavior continue. Thirdly, I think it’s beyond time that I start taking more interest in my name and image—I just found out I’m mentioned in one of Lockhart’s books as being his only living relative, and I know for a fact that I’m mentioned in at least five others-- though again I didn’t read them so I don’t know the specifics of what they say. I know I’m on a special edition Chocolate frog card as well. I’d always meant to look into it myself, but I always got distracted by other things. I want to know where and how my name is being used, in what context and whether or not it’s being used legally. Tonight just showed me that I can’t afford to just coast along and let my public image run out of control. While you’re looking up slander laws, check into libel as well—I’ll look into it myself here, but it will be good to have a second opinion. I think that’s all…oh! Don’t forget to get a copy of the Quibbler when it comes out. The article I told you about back in September will be there, and there’s also going to be a blurb about Sir Nick’s Death Day Party—Xenophilius saved space for it, and he’s just waiting for Luna’s report and Colin’s pictures so he can do the printing. It should be out later in the week. Uh huh, uh huh…I will. I’m going to bed right now. I was just about to fall asleep when McGonagall came and got us. Yeah…goodnight.”   
   
 

Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the floo into the hospital wing and dusted off the soot and ash that had gathered on his beard and clothing. His eyebrows rose when he saw that the four Heads of house and Madame Pomfrey were all gathered around a student on one of the cots there.

“Poppy? You called?”

“Yes, we have a problem. Miss Granger here is infested with wrackspurts. She came to me in the wee hours of the morning, crying and hysterical that she’d gone mad. The poor child was completely beside herself! I checked her over for a number of curses, hexes, potions and conditions, but I wasn’t finding anything…then I remembered something I’d read in the paper over the summer. I recalled that Miss Granger was muggleborn, so I thought I might as well check…and sure enough, the poor girl is completely infested. I have the elves whipping up a pitcher of turnip juice right now, and I’ve ordered them to serve it once a week at meals as a preventative. I called all of you here so you can learn to detect them. We need to check over the rest of the students before any more of them go mad. So little is really known about the things, we have no idea if it’s contagious, or how many of the children might be affected already.”

“Good Lord. I’d best check Ginny Weasley for certain—she seems to spend a lot of time with Miss Granger, and goodness knows she’s been acting up!” 

“I’d like to check all of you over as well as the rest of the staff. I had no idea that little article was going to end up being so important. Why, it’s a health crisis!” 

Dumbledore was studying Hermione when Pomfrey turned her wand on him to scan. “You’re clean.” Pomfrey told him with some relief. The other teachers shuddered just a bit at the thought of a mad, paranoid Albus Dumbledore on a rampage. They stood still in turn while Pomfrey checked each of them as well. 

“You’re all clean as well, thank goodness.” 

 

   
   
“What’s up with you, man?”

Dean, Seamus and Ron stood lined up in front of Neville, watching him with concern. He’d been already seated in the common room when they’d come down, brooding, and watching the girls’ staircase.

“I’m waiting for bloody Granger to haul her arse down here so I can give her a piece of my mind, that’s what.” Neville muttered.

The three boys blinked and exchanged an incredulous look—none of them had ever heard Neville Longbottom speak in such a way.

“Does this have anything to do with why you and Harry were hauled out of bed last night?”

“Yeah—I wanted to ask about that. I meant to stay up, but you were gone long enough that I fell back asleep. What happened?”

Neville’s face darkened. “Me, Harry, Colin and Luna were accused of attempted murder, that’s what.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Neville didn’t get a chance to answer, as professor McGonagall came into the common room.

“Everyone, please head down to the great hall—prefects, please make sure the whole house is present.”

The boys followed the crowd out, while the prefects did a walk-through of the tower to be sure everyone had left. 

“Now, what’s this about you being accused of attempted murder? What happened, exactly?”

The telling of the tale took them all the way to the ground floor, where they found their usual seats at the Gryffindor table in the great hall. Harry was already down there, seated and eating breakfast. They took their seats around him.

“Neville was just telling us—that’s crazy!”

“I still just don’t understand it!” Neville burst out. “I’ve never been anything but a good friend to her, and this is how she repays me! And what about Colin and Luna—what have they ever done to her? They haven’t even known her that long!"

"She’s just branching out, I guess. She's always accusing me of being secretive.”

“The difference though is that these accusations might have landed all of us in Azkaban!”

“That’s true…I was never actually worried about Azkaban; one, the accusations were completely baseless, and two, if they just tried to throw us in willy-nilly so soon after two innocent men were found to have been put in unfairly there would have been a hue and cry, during which the truth would have come out.”   
 

 

“Attention everyone! We’re going to be checking everyone over for a health concern that’s just come to light. There’s nothing to be concerned about. Just stay in your seats while you are scanned by a member of the staff.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Hermione isn’t here. What do you want to bet she’s come down with a sudden case of wrackspurts?”

“Oh come on, how likely is that?”

They watched as Professor McGongall began making her way through the seventh years, while Professor Burbage started with the first years. She scanned Ginny and looked briefly alarmed, though she did her best to hide it. “Miss Weasley, head up to the hospital wing please.”

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Run along dear, I have a lot more scans to do. Madame Pomfrey will explain things.”

Ginny scowled and stomped out of the room, though she looked a bit scared as well. Professor Burbage finished with the first years and moved on to the second years.

“What are you checking for exactly?” Neville wondered.

Professor Burbage sighed and decided to just answer, as she was probably just going to keep being asked.

“Wrackspurts. There’s an easy cure, it’s nothing to be alarmed about.” She assured them before moving on to the third years.

Ron, who had been sitting quietly this whole time, began to scowl and his face to darken.

“What’s up with you?” Seamus wondered.

“Ginny. She’s probably going to be let out of detention and her slate will be wiped clean—it wasn’t her, it was the bloody wrackspurts and whatnot. It’s all bull, unless she’s had them her whole life—she’s always been hex-happy, and she’s always been obsessed with Harry, and she’s always had a temper. Now, every time she acts up, she’ll just go and drink some bloody turnip juice while looking sad and martyred and everyone will just say ‘poor girl, must have had a relapse’ and instead of giving her detention or taking points, they’ll probably pat her on the head and look sad. When I’m at home, when she hexes me she just gets away with it, ‘cause mum always assumes I deserve it and must have done something to upset her. When I’m here, if she does, she’ll get away with it ‘cause people think she’s ill and they’ll coddle her and probably get on my case about upsetting her.”

“You know how to cast a good shield—just stay alert and bounce her spells back on her. If she hexes herself enough she’ll eventually learn.” 

 “If the things are contagious…why do only Ginny and Hermione have them?” Dean wondered.

“What’dya mean? If they’re contagious, then Ginny got ‘em from Hermione.”

“Shouldn’t Lavender and Parvati, who share a dorm and most classes with her have gotten them? Same goes for Ginny—her roommates and classmates should have caught them from her. Contagions don’t just pick random people to hop to, they spread out to everyone who comes in contact with the infected person.” 

“Well, they’re mutated bundimums, right? Maybe they thought Ginny’s brain seemed a better home for them? I don’t know.” 

“Ron’s point about Ginny holds doubly-so for Hermione—she’s been driving people out of the library, she’s leveled accusations of murder with malice aforethought, her nosiness and hysterics have annoyed me as long as I've known her. I’ve found it incredibly frustrating that everyone has usually just shrugged off my complaints about her behavior. She was having hysterics that I was brain damaged, and people spent a week or so talking to me like I was retarded, she has hysterics that I’m leaving to go to the bathroom, and starts accusing me of being secretive and up to something I don’t want anyone to know about—and instead of anyone looking at her like she’s mental, they look at me like I’m off being evil whenever they don’t have their eyes on me. When she hexed all of us in the library, and tried to make us look like disruptive troublemakers, everyone was so very shocked—even when I pointed out that she’s been behaving badly since day one!” Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.   
   
“Do you guys know why I originally started the Melting Pot?”

“To have a cool clubhouse?” Seamus guessed.

“No. I did it so there would be a lot of people who spent a lot of time with me, and so would know me as an individual. I did it to insulate myself against the constant vague rumors of unspecified evil. The first day of school the rumor mill had me guilty, convicted and on my way to Azkaban for murder—except for you guys, who actually knew me as a person, and had witnessed the events in question. When I got called out of breakfast to talk to the Aurors after Quirrel and the fire, everyone had me convicted of possible involvement in one or both—except the folks of the Melting Pot, who knew me. The rumors petered out pretty quickly, because people who knew me objected, pointed out that my whereabouts were known and accounted for, and told what I was really being interviewed about—not as a suspect, but as a would-be victim of Quirrel’s scheme to steal the stone. Even with the Melting Pot, keeping my reputation clear is a full-time job, and it’s all because of Hermione. I haven’t done anything illegal, or suspicious, or evil—and yet, because of her, there are always vague rumors that I have. And, because there are always vague rumors, even people who know me look at me a bit askance more often than not. Now, because of this whole convenient wrackspurt thing, it will all be wiped clean. “Well, I know she was controlling and nosy and hexed a bunch of people and accused you and others of crimes that could have landed all of you in Azkaban—but that’s all in the past; it wasn’t her, it was the wrackspurts.”

“You seriously started the Melting Pot to protect yourself from Hermione?”

“Not from Hermione per se, but from rumor-mongering in general---Hermione is what keeps making it not quite work as planned. It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.” 

“Someone does seem out to get you—that guy this summer that tried to kidnap you started acting oddly after he was in the Ministry. They found wrackspurts. Hermione accused you of murder, acts weird a few hours later—wrackspurts. Ginny is obsessed with you and attacking people to get to you—she hasn’t been acting weirdly, but she also has wrackspurts.” Neville mused.

“Don’t forget you were involved in the first two—you were with me when that guy tried to grab me, and you were also accused of murder. Ginny keeps trying to shove you out of the way—she’s always stealing your seat, no one else’s.” 

“So…let’s say someone is out to get you. Why? That’s the part that doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’ve got me. I’m a twelve-year-old, second-year student who didn’t know wizards even existed until a little while ago.”

“It’s probably Death Eaters.”

“If it’s Death Eaters, why aren’t they just popping out trying to kill or torture me?”

“You’ve got me—but then, they’re nuts, aren’t they?” Seamus shrugged.

“I don’t know, it seems a bit complicated for a revenge scheme: a girl desperate to date you, and old guy who thinks you’re too young to go shopping by yourself, and a girl trying to control you and hog the library for herself?”

“Put like that, it is rather mad, isn’t it?” Ron sighed. 

“Maybe it’s just coincidence? Or…maybe something about you makes the wrackspurts act up?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for that—now it’s going to be all over school that it’s my fault.” 

“Sorry.” Dean apologized, but Harry waved him off.  
   
The teachers finished scanning the students, but no other cases of random wrackspurt infestation were found. Everyone still had to drink a small glass of turnip juice as a preventative, in case the wrackspurts were too small to come up on their scans. A glass of turnip juice appeared in front of all the students—breakfast wouldn’t appear until everyone had drunk up. 

The kids all made a face and chugged it down, only to wince and make faces when they had done so—turnip juice wasn’t really to any of their taste.   
Dumbledore stood in front of the room and twinkled at all of them. 

“Our resident medi-witch, Madame Pomfrey, has prescribed a weekly dose of turnip juice for all students. At the beginning of the next term, everyone will be scanned again to determine if any new cases have cropped up. If any new cases do appear, we will continue the once a week treatment until the end of the school year. Now, all of you, tuck in!” 

Neville looked at the cheerfully twinkling headmaster suspiciously. “He was enjoying the sight of everyone choking down turnip juice far too much for my liking. What do you want to bet there’ll be one more case in January that will force us all to chug weekly turnip juice for the rest of the year?”

The other boys eyed the twinkling headmaster, who did indeed seem far too cheerful about their ordeal for their liking.

“No bet.” They all sighed.   
   
 

“Nervous?”

“Not as much as I was. We decided to disillusion ourselves so we don’t detract from the puppets. It’ll be easier, knowing no one can see me.”

What remained of dinner disappeared from all the tables.

“Looks like that’s my signal. Enjoy the show, everyone.” Neville told the others as he rose to leave.

“Good luck, Nev.”

“Break a leg.” Dean said cheerfully.

Ron looked at Dean horrified. “What do you want him to break his leg for? What’s he done to you?”

“Huh? No…it’s a muggle thing. It’s a superstition. Actors tell each other ‘break a leg’ before going on stage—they think it averts bad luck.”

The students were directed to stand around the edges of the great hall while the tables and benches were vanished, and the rows of seats that had been set up previously were put back in place so they could watch the puppet show.  
Harry grabbed himself a seat in the second row and waited eagerly for the show to begin. 

“Blimey, Harry, it’s just puppets.”

“Yeah, but they’re doing a wizard story—I don’t know any, so this’ll be a treat for me.”

“Same here.” Dean agreed. “Puppet show or not, it’s still cool.” 

“You don’t know it? How could you not know it? Everyone knows it!”

“Raised.By.MUGGLES.” Harry sighed through gritted teeth. 

He’d gotten tired of reminding people of that fact. He didn’t appreciate the fact that people repeatedly expected him to know wizarding stuff no matter how many times he reminded them that he had no way of knowing that stuff. The worst part was when people started treating him like he was a bit slow for not knowing things—condescension was one of his hot buttons—another mental scar of his early life with the Dursleys.   
   
Everyone quieted down when the lights dimmed slightly, and a group of faint distortions moved out onto the dais where the head table usually sat. Two of the distortions unrolled something in the middle of the dais while the others spread out to different spots and stood waiting, and four more moved to the front of the dais and each pulled a near life-sized puppet out of a bottomless bag. Three of the puppets were girls in long dressed that looked vaguely medieval—a blonde, a redhead, and the last with black hair. The final puppet was a male in rusty armor who looked like he’d seen better days.   
   
Faint music began to play and a voice, which he recognized as Susan Bones, began to speak. 

There is an enchanted and enclosed garden that is protected by strong magic. Once a year, an "unfortunate" is allowed the opportunity to find their way to the Fountain, to bathe in the water, and win "fair fortune forever more." Each year hundreds would travel from miles around, hoping to be the one lucky enough to make it into the garden so they might bathe in the waters and lay aside their woes.   
On this particular day, three witches met at the entrance to the hidden garden.

At this point the three girl puppets moved to stand before the long hedge that rose up in the center of the dais while Susan spoke. 

“Asha had traveled far, and with great difficulty.” Susan explained as the black-haired witch puppet came to life and stepped forward. She walked with halting steps as though every step pained her. When she came to a stop, she put a hand to her forehead and seemed to cough into a blood-stained hanky she held in her other hand. 

“I am dying, of a terrible illness no healer can cure. I fear the magic of the fountain may be my only hope.” Amanda Runcorn’s voice spoke for her while the puppet spread her hands and moved as though speaking. 

“The second witch, Altheda had her own tale of woe to speak.” Susan continued, as the red-haired puppet stepped forward. Altheda’s dress was worn and patchworked.

“An evil sorcerer attacked and robbed me. I lost everything I owned, and I was powerless to stop him. I just want to be able to reverse my fortunes once more. I live in abject poverty, wounded by the great injustice done me, and my failure haunts me.” The puppet explained, in Su Li’s—a Ravenclaw girl in Harry’s year’s-- voice.

“The third witch, Amata then related her own tale of woe” Susan continued.

“I was in love with a man who broke my heart and left me bereft. I cannot eat, cannot sleep—day and night I’m haunted by his betrayal and abandonment. I hope the fountain’s waters will wash away my pain and heal my broken heart.” The blonde puppet explained in Hannah Abbot’s voice.

Amata then turned to the other two witches and gestured. “It occurs to me, sisters, that three heads are better than one.”

“Indeed. By working together, perhaps we can assure that at least one of us gets our heart’s desire.” Altheda agreed.

A glow began to rise behind the hedge and the three witches turned to face it, just as the knight came stumbling towards them, looking lost and confused. The hedges parted and several vines snaked out and snagged Asha, who grabbed Altheda, who grabbed Amata—who had gotten entangled with the knight when he stumbled into her. The four figures were pulled into the hedge and disappeared as the light winked out.  
   
   
The boys were still talking excitedly about the show when they returned to their dorm.

“The symbols on the fountain—I recognized eternity, omega and the all-seeing eye, but what was the last one? It was a triangle with a circle inside with a line through it. I never saw that one before, what it is?” Dean wondered.

“I was curious about that myself.” Harry added casually. He’d been a bit startled to see the Peverell mark on part of the set.

“Oh, that’s the symbol of the deathly hallows. You know, from the Tale of the Three Brothers” Ron explained.

“The who the what now?” Dean laughed. “Never heard of it.” 

“What? Everyone knows that one!”

“Raised by muggles.” Harry and Dean chorused.

“Oh, right.”

“It’s another tale from Beedle the Bard. We’ll probably be doing it at some point. We’re going to be doing Babbity-Rabbity and the Cackling Stump next—probably right before the end of term during the next Hogsmeade weekend.” Neville explained. 

“Alright…what are the deathly hallows though?”

“The elder wand, the resurrection stone and death’s invisibility cloak.” 

“Why does death need an invisibility cloak?” Dean asked as he climbed into bed.

“It’s obvious, innit? He probably gets tired of chasing folks and waving his arms around trying to catch them.” 

Harry climbed into bed, his mind awhirl


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quibbler article comes out and causes a stir, Harry hangs out with the Grey Lady, the kids' secret clubhouse is discovered by the teachers.

.   
Ginny and Hermione were kept in the hospital wing for several days, drinking turnip juice and being monitored by Madame Pomfrey. 

People were a little weird around them when they returned—hard feelings didn’t just disappear upon being told the person responsible hadn’t been in charge of their own actions.  
On top of that, people shied away almost instinctively; afraid they’d catch ‘brain fungus’ from being near them, even though they’d been assured their condition had been completely cleared up. 

On Friday, a number of owls laden with copies of the Quibbler flew into the great hall—all the teachers had a copy, Harry noticed, as did a good number of the students—including Hermione.

“I thought you didn’t hold with the Quibbler?” Ron demanded around a mouthful of half-chewed food. Hermione made a disgusted face and scooched away from him. 

“I don’t, but I wanted to see what sort of article they were working on back in September.” She sniffed disdainfully as she flipped open the paper to the front page. Hermione froze with her eyes bugged out and her mouth hanging open.

“B-but…it’s a myth. It doesn’t exist!”   
 

 

Harry had more or less been expecting her reaction—he was more interested in the reactions of the staff. McGonagall gasped and spluttered in shock—she didn’t seem to be reading the article, just staring at the picture on the front page, which showed Slytherin’s mouth opening, and the skeleton of the basilisk sliding out—controlled by Harry, of course. Snape paled, and his hands clenched spasmodically on the paper before he controlled his reaction. A few of the other teachers let out little gasps or shrieks upon seeing it—it was essentially the Dark Mark, which Voldemort and his death eaters had used to mark their kills, but in reverse. Instead of a live snake coming out of a skull, it was a fleshed face with a skeletal snake coming out of it. He supposed it was rather startling for those who’d lived through the war; most still refused to say Voldemort’s name—suddenly seeing the dark mark, even in reverse, probably brought back a lot of bad memories. 

After his initial shock, Flitwick began reading through the article with every evidence of enjoyment, as did Sprout, and many of the rest of the teachers.   
Dumbledore had frozen much as McGonagall had, though without the spluttering, upon seeing the front page. He began reading through the article with lips pursed, and a grave expression on his face—his eyes had even lost their customary twinkle. In short, he did not look happy. 

Harry was aware of a lot of eyes on him, but he kept his cool and kept eating. He’d find out soon enough whether he’d just destroyed his future or not. He was feeling hopeful—no one was screaming or pointing yet. He just hoped it stayed that way.   
 

 

   
“It’s unbelievable, completely unbelievable!”

“I don’t know, Minerva, I think he’d made a good case. Now, granted, as he was working from guesswork and a sparse public record that is fifty years old, he could be quite mistaken in the conclusions he drew, but he does make a good case.”

“Tom Riddle became You-know-who! He killed James and Lily, Harry’s parents, as well as countless others! How could he defend him like this?!” 

Flitwick frowned and sat back in his chair. “I don’t see where you get the idea that he’s defending him. He pointed out that it was Tom Riddle, not Hagrid, who was responsible, albeit indirectly, for Myrtle Greene’s death, and that he likely framed Hagrid for the deed. He also gives a strange, though possible scenario that clears Hagrid’s pet from responsibility for the attacks that preceded Myrtle’s death.” 

“Exactly! He’s relieved him of responsibility for everything! As though all of it were just a tragic mistake from beginning to end. Considering what he became, I’ve no doubt in my mind that he’d let the beast out several times in an attempt to kill! He was a vicious, insane, murdering monster; one so steeped in the dark arts that he no longer qualified as human—if he ever did! Potter has made a public case for it being an accident! It’s an appalling pack of lies, and frankly I think Mr. Potter should be ashamed of himself!” 

McGonagall snarled, her Scottish brogue becoming thicker as she grew more upset.  
   
“I can’t even imagine” Charity Burbage whispered, shivering. She rubbed at her arms as though she’d caught a sudden chill. “going to school with You-Know-Who! It’s…how horrible. It must have been terrifying.” 

Flitwick rolled his eyes and sighed. “Hardly. Now, granted, I was younger and in a different house, so I can’t say I was particularly well acquainted with Riddle…but he wasn’t stalking through the halls murdering and torturing people, you know. He was rather like Percy Weasley, actually…or perhaps a cross between Percy Weasley and Hermione Granger.”

“Filius!” McGonagall scolded, utterly appalled by the comparison.

“What?” Flitwick demanded, unfazed. “It’s true. Like Percy, he was a twelve OWL recipient—I recall that much from how Slughorn kept bragging about him. He was from humble beginnings, and his robes were usually second hand—though that was usually only noticeable the first day. He lived with muggles, so he couldn’t use magic during the summer” he explained to the others. “I remember a number of my housemates were quite amazed at what he could do with charms and transfigurations when it came to clothes. You’d have thought he was a wealthy young prince once he had a chance to work—you’d never guess everything he owned was worn hand-me-downs from the bargain bin at the second hand shop.” He got lost in his musings for a moment, and shook his head. “Ironically enough, most believed him to be muggleborn, though I recall he made a point of telling people he had a magical parent and was actually a half-blood. I don’t think anyone ever believed him. Frankly, knowing that, it’s astonishing that he rose to such prominence in Slytherin house.”   
   
“So he was poor and got twelve OWLs. I can see how you’d compare him to Percy Weasley…how on earth to you get Hermione Granger in there?” Charity demanded, offended by the very idea of a muggleborn being compared to You-Know-Who. 

“He had a ravenous appetite for knowledge—it was said he spent more time trawling through the library than even the most grade-conscious Ravenclaw, and he was a bit of a know-it-all. He was also a bit of a suck-up”

“Filius!”

“What? It’s true, and you very well know it, Minerva. The teachers all adored him and considered him their prize student, because he was brilliant, well-behaved, got good grades, and made a point to regularly butter all of them up--he was always giving Slughorn candied pineapple.”

“See? A depraved individual—and not everyone adored him, I’ll have you know. Albus could see clearly that he was travelling a dark path” McGonagall sniffed with stiff pride.   
“Unfortunately for all of us, and our world, he was never heeded. He always assured me he was certain Hagrid was in no way responsible for everything that happened with those attacks fifty years ago, he was always a staunch supporter of his. Sadly, he had no proof, and poor Hagrid was expelled and sent away before he even knew he was a suspect.”

“Hmmm.” Flitwick murmured noncommittally. 

“Filius? Surely you don’t think it was right that Hagrid ended up in Azkaban?” McGonagall demanded.

 Flitwick sighed and shook his head. “I was as fond of Hagrid as anyone, you know that. He usually meant well, he had a kind heart—he’d give you his last galleon and the shirt off his back if you needed it! For all his great size—and age—there was something always rather childlike and naïve about him” he mused with a reminiscent smile. “However, with that being said, I wasn’t blind to his faults, and I often thought Albus did the world a disservice by being so blasé about them. He was expelled and his wand snapped—but he somehow still had the broken pieces of his wand. I can only assume Albus hid them away and repaired it for him. Even if he believed he was outright innocent, or simply that he’d been punished enough, the fact remained that he wasn’t supposed to have a wand or access to magic. My own feelings on the matter are somewhat muddled, so I won’t dwell on it. Hagrid, for all that he was usually easygoing and quick to laugh, also had a few hot-buttons…and when they were pressed, he had a bad habit of picking people up and chucking them into trees! He drank prodigiously, and then would set his hut and the grounds on fire—so much so, that when that fire happened just a few months ago, the people of Hogsmeade completely ignored it!”

“Let’s not forget his pets” Professor Kettleburn added darkly. “I’ve lost limbs because I kept getting surprised by the things that were out there.”

“Maybe if you were actually the expert you claim to be…” McGonagall sniffed. She and the rest of the teachers jumped when Kettleburn jumped from his seat, which fell over with a crash, and slammed his remaining good hand on the table. 

 “You daft, insolent wench! I refuse to stand here and take such cheek from the likes of you, who was a student here while I was teaching. It’s only because I am an expert that I’m even alive right now! I’ve been lodging complaints about manticores, fire crabs, acromantuala colonies and giant, vicious three-headed dogs being where they had no business being for years now! Every time I went out into the bloody forest there was another dangerous, deadly, often magic-resistant menace out there that I bloody-well wasn’t expecting to stumble across! And, do you know what I found out? I found out the goddamn Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures never even sent anyone out to the forest to investigate! My reports were getting filed in the ‘crackpot’ pile all these years, in spite of me nearly dying and losing limbs, in spite of the fact that all the ‘repected experts’ were once my students and learned everything they know from me, and in spite of Hagrid’s history! He made that forest a death zone for anyone who wasn’t as well-versed in dealing with magical creatures as I am, and even I an expert” he added with a growl “nearly met my end there more than once.” 

He straightened up and glared at all of them. 

“It was bad enough just running afoul of his damn pets, and having no one listen to my complaints all these years. To know I was being ignored, and he was filling up the forest with things that had no business being brought anywhere near a school, when he was believed to have killed a student through his mad love of dangerous creatures, is frankly, completely beyond the pale.” Without another word, Kettleburn stormed out of the teacher’s lounge, leaving ringing silence and a shocked McGonagall behind him.   
   
“Well…I didn’t think the old boy had it in him.” Snape drawled.

“That will be quite enough out of you, Severus Snape!” McGonagall snapped in reply. Her lips were pressed so tightly together they formed a thin, white line, and two angry spots of colors shone out on each cheek. Snape just raised an eyebrow and sniffed. 

“You completely deserved that. I don’t know why you felt the need to make a crack about the man’s competence like that.”

“Silvanus Kettleburn has been naught but a menace in all the years he’s been here!” 

“He survived the forest of death on numerous occasions, with only half a lost arm and some scars to show for it. I’d think that would have garnered the man at least some respect.”   
McGonagall just harrumphed in reply. “After all, Alastor Moody is still well respected, in spite of having lost a leg, most of his nose, and an eye to dark wizards—the things out in that forest were as dangerous, if not moreso—especially if you weren’t expecting them. You are aware, are you not, that the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had a team of thirty—most of them hit-wizards and bounty hunters, out there for the better part of the summer, and even then there were quite a few injuries? The department apologized for not having investigated his claims all these years—they said it would have saved everyone a whole lot of grief if they’d done so.”

McGonagall ignored him, choosing instead to sit stiffly and sip her tea while very pointedly ignoring him. Snape huffed and rolled his eyes in annoyance, but let the subject drop.   
 Sprout sighed and shook her head, while concentrating on her knitting—which she was doing by hand, not by magic as she found it soothing. 

“Minerva, I realize you don’t want to hear it, but…well, Silvanus does make a valid point about Hagrid’s employment here.”

“Really, Pomona!”

“Hush now dearie, and let me speak. I noticed you didn’t really spend much time reading the article…now, you might be a fast reader, but I tend to think you skimmed things and didn’t really give it the proper attention because you figure you already knew what needed knowing. I did give it a thorough reading, and let me tell you—fond as I was of Hagrid most of the time, given what was in the record of the whole affair, it’s frankly appalling that he was allowed to be employed here.”

“Pomona, really, how could you say such things?”

“When the aurors arrived on scene, they found the front doors hanging askew, a half-dead prefect groaning in the corridor, and Hagrid erasing the gouged stone that marked the spider’s passage. I’m sorry, dearie, but I think most anyone would have looked at that scene and figured they’d seen all they needed seeing. Had Tom Riddle not been so gravely injured by Hagrid leaping on him, he might very well have slipped up somehow, or at least given the aurors the feeling that they needed to investigate further. As it was, Hagrid looked quite guilty and quite dangerous, and made it seem he had been covering up his pet’s rampages for some time, and tried to kill the boy who tried to stop him. Any parents of the students here who read all that are going to be furious—and they’re right to be. It makes it seem like Hogwarts is playing Russian roulette with the lives of the students, doesn’t it? I’ll tell you, I’ve always admired Albus’ willingness to give people second chances, and you figure the Hagrid experiment worked out well in that there were no further incidences of students dying or being nearly killed at his hands…but it could so easily have been otherwise. The thing that concerns me is that, had something of the sort happened, I really don’t know if Albus’ wouldn't have just ‘smoothed it over’”

“Dragon fire anyone?” Flitwick interjected quietly. “It was aurors, not students…but still.”

“Three headed dog.” Snape added sourly. His leg still occasionally twinged where the thing had bit him.

Sprout sighed again and nodded. “Then, of course, was your earlier point about Hagrid’s tendency to toss people into trees, Filius. Albus always reacted the same—‘Now, now Hagrid, that’s quite enough.’ And then he would twinkle at everyone, and brush it off. It’s…worrisome, don’t you think?” 

She finished out the row she’d been knitting and then tucked everything away, before standing and stretching. “Ah, these old bones…I get stiff if I sit too long, though granted, it takes longer in our nice new chairs.” She confided, giving her comfy armchair a pat. “I need to go check on the mandrakes anyway—some of them were teething recently. It’s a touchy time for them.” She added before exiting the room.  
   
McGonagall glanced up from her brooding contemplation at the mention of the mandrakes. She bit her lip, considering, and then steeled her resolve.

“I was never a big fan of herbology, I’ll admit, but I do seem to recall aging solution was often used to speed up the process of growing plants. Would that interfere in the mandrake restorative draught?” she asked Snape casually. 

Flitwick raised an eyebrow, and sat back to watch. 

“Funny, Mr. Potter asked me that the other day after class.” 

McGonagall’s lips tightened again in annoyance—she had told the boy adults were taking care of things; that should have been the end of it!

“He was concerned, you see. Apparently, he and Mr. Longbottom spent a good portion of the summer restoring the garden at Black’s house through liberal use of aging solution. He was worried that they might have destroyed the garden’s usefulness for harvesting potions ingredients. I pointed out that he would be unlikely to be using any of the plants for potions before next summer, and by that point they would have expunged whatever solution was still in them, so it was not a concern.” 

McGonagall’s shoulders relaxed and she nodded. “So there is a reason we did not just age up a mandrake and restore Mr. Lockhart then?”

“As I told Messrs. Potter and Longbottom, mandrakes are one of a small subset of magical plants for which aging them does little good if they’re intended for potions use. Mandrakes are part animal as well as plant, and they have specific hormonal changes they go through as they age. When you use aging solution, rather than hitting these milestones one at a time and changing gradually, everything happens at once. If you try using the mandrake in a potion, depending on the exact state of the thing when it goes in, it can have several odd side effects from hormonal imbalances, as well as contamination residue from the aging solution.”

 “I hadn’t realized there were plants with such specific concerns associated with them.” McGonagall mused.

“Yes several—mandrakes, as I’ve just said, and of course bundimums—something I think you’ll agree we’ve all been hearing entirely too much about lately. There are a few others, however there were none of them among the plants the children used the aging solution on.” 

“In other words, Gilderoy is stuck until year’s end? Pity—I must admit I’m very curious to know what the man has to say for himself. I don’t care what our esteemed headmaster says, the man recognized what our Mr. Filch was holding up in front of him, and he was terrified. When you add that fact to the presence of the rooster in his rooms, well, it all looks very suspicious.” Flitwick sighed. “I don’t like to think it of a Ravenclaw, but there it is—though I suppose it is a very Ravenclaw sort of crime, if the result being aimed for was material for a new book.”

He shook his head and flipped open his copy of the Quibbler to the inside photos of the chamber of secrets. 

“You know, seeing these photos makes me realize something—there’s a very good reason the children were so confused by the idea that they might have made the basilisk to strike down Lockhart. Look at the size of this thing! It could have swallowed the both of them whole, and had room for a few more! It’s no wonder they looked at us like we were rather mad! They must have wondered how we thought they could hide what they were doing, if they were parading around the castle with something like that! It does make me wonder how they all believed something this size could hatch out of a chicken egg though…” 

“Magic.” Snape huffed. “It makes the impossible possible on a regular basis. Messrs. Potter and Creevey were raised by muggles, Miss Lovegood has little problem believing six impossible things before breakfast, and Mr. Longbottom wasn’t there, so he would have only gotten reports of the thing’s size second-hand. I don’t find it surprising at all.” 

“I still think that that first photograph was in extremely poor taste—I don’t know what they were thinking, putting it on the front page.” McGonagall grumbled.

“I would have to disagree—it pretty much proves the boy’s assertions, after all, namely that Tom Riddle was in the chamber of secrets and later became You-Know-Who. It’s rather fascinating, from a purely scholarly point of view, to see the origin of the dark mark in this way.” Flitwick protested.

 “Speaking of scholarly interest, I must say Filius, I’m rather surprised that you’ve yet to comment on the possible re-writing of Hogwarts’ history that seems to have been perpetrated.”

Flitwick held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m already way ahead of you, Severus. I went and took a look at the manuscript after reading the article and then wrote a scathing letter to the publishing house before coming down here. It’s appalling, frankly appalling that any self-respecting maker of books would perpetrate such an outrage.”

“It’s not like it would be the first time. I received a letter from a student over the summer with concerns about the potions text book. It seems the most recent editions have had large parts of the text excised and made into a separate volume—a move of which they did not see fit to share with me. I investigated and found that yes, whole reams of needed information are gone from the book. I had thought the children were just getting stupider, but it seems that they were just uniformed about basic knowledge they needed to work safely in a potions laboratory. I inquired at Flourish and Blotts for the sales statistics of the new, separate volume—in the last five years they’ve sold fifteen copies. That number accounts for roughly half of NEWT potions students I’ve had in that time --the rest can be accounted for by persons using second-hand books. I wrote the publishers a scathing letter of my own and added the second volume to the book list for this year. I’m happy to say there have been exactly two mishaps thus far this year---in the last five years there were dangerous mishaps in every single class. I told the publishers they were lucky that I didn’t take them to court for reckless endangerment for their stupid stunt.”

“An odd and worrying trend; this bears investigating.” Flitwick murmured. “Did you hear back from the publisher’s at all?”

“Yes, I did. They said the author, a potions master, made the changes to the book just before he died to better fall in line with changes in regulations at the school board. I don’t know what he bloody hell they were talking about, and my inquiries thus far have met with no results. I was thinking of just dumping the problem on the board of governors and letting them worry about it.” 

“Let me do some investigating of my own first. If I find anything, I’ll add it to whatever report you forward. I don’t like the sound of that—changes in the school regulations? What changes? If there were changes, we of all people should have been the first to know!”

Flitwick hopped out of his seat, and wandered off muttering.

Snape grinned, well-pleased with himself and drew out a book from his pocket. He made himself comfortable in his seat and began reading.   
   
 

“Oh geez, I forgot—It’s Quibbler day, isn’t it?” 

“Yup—and as always, it’s here just in time for lunch.” Auror Proudfoot said cheerfully.

“I don’t know why you bother reading that bizarre rag.”

“It’s good for a laugh, usually, and there’s often things of interest in there as well. You should give it a try instead of ragging on me all the time.” He paid the delivery owl its fee and tucked the paper under his arm. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah, just give me a sec.” Shaklebolt agreed. “Hey, Dora? We’re heading down to lunch, want to join us?”

“Sure thing.” Tonks agreed. The three of them set off towards the cafeteria and ordered up their lunch from the menus on the table, which appeared moments later, delivered by the Ministry’s kitchen elves. 

Proudfoot took a big bite of his sandwich and unrolled the paper, at which point he choked.

“Ah! Jim, you alright there?” Tonks cried as she began pounding him on the back. Shaklebolt, meanwhile, stole his paper to see what had made him react like that. He choked as well, though lucky for him he didn’t have any food in his mouth. 

“Good heavens! What were they thinking?” 

“What? What is it?” Tonks demanded, craning her neck to see. Shaklebolt held up the paper, which was displaying the statue of Salazar Slytherin, -who’s mouth was opening as a giant skeletal snake came slithering out. She was so astonished, she stopped pounding Proudfoot on the back, which allowed him to finally regain his breath. 

Several Aurors and other assorted ministry workers who were there in the cafeteria as well saw the commotion and came over to investigate.

“Hem, hem” Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, cleared her throat in the annoyingly theatrical way she usually did when she wanted to get people’s attention. “This is not how employees of the Ministry of Magic behave in public” she continued in her saccharine-sweet, little-girl voice. People moved out of the way so she could approach the table, a few nearly flinching as they caught sight of her. Her little-girl voice was so terribly at odds with her squat, toad-like appearance it was always something of a shock, even when you were used to her. “Now, what is going on over here?”

The three at the table exchanged a look, and handed over the paper without a word. 

Her lips pressed into a thin, displeased line when she saw the picture. 

“Disgraceful. I do believe the Minister should see this.” She decided, folding the paper with a snap and tucking it under her arm.

“Um…Madame Umbridge…that’s my paper” Proudfoot protested. She gave him a haughty, displeased look and sniffed disdainfully, before marching out of the cafeteria.

“I didn’t even get to read it yet.” Proudfoot sighed as he watched her leave.

“Cavanaugh’s carries the Quibbler.” Dawlish offered.

“Get me a copy!”  
“Yeah, me too.”   
“Don’t forget me!”   
“Hey now!” Dawlish protested as people began handing him money and clapping him on the back. He looked around at all the expectant faces and sighed, rather disgruntled, before apparating out to go fetch several copies of the paper. When he disappeared, Tonks whipped out her cell phone and put through a call to Barty.

“Hey, it’s me. Did you see the Quibbler?” 

“What’s that? Who’s she talking to?” one of the secretaries wondered.

“No, we didn’t get a chance to read it, that old toad Umbridge took it to show the minister before any of us had a chance to. It’s alright, Dawlish is on the case—he’s out getting more copies so we can all read it. Do you know what it’s about? Why is there a dark mark statue on the front?” 

Several of the Aurors took it upon themselves to explain to the secretary what the cell phone was, and how the Auror department was thinking of issuing a couple to be carried by those out in the field. 

“What do you mean Lockhart was petrified by a baby basilisk? I didn’t hear about that!”

Shaklebolt and several of the other Aurors focused in on Tonks’ one-sided conversation. 

“It’s all in there? Wow, how did they manage that? Uh huh, wow, they’re real little professionals, aren’t they?”

Dawlish popped back in with an armload of Quibblers which people began swiping and gathering around in groups to read. Tonks gestured for one to be handed to her. Proudfoot and Shaklebolt gathered to each side to read over her shoulders.

“Dawlish just got back, I’m going to read it now. I’ll call you back later, alright?”

Tonks flipped through to the article. “It’s a statue of Salazar Slytherin from the chamber of secrets. Harry apparently cracked open a fifty year old case, oh, and Gilderoy Lockhart has been petrified by a basilisk. I don’t know details yet, apparently it’s all in here.” She explained. She came at last to the photo spread showing the chamber.

“Wow…that guy really liked snakes.” Proudfoot murmured in astonishment. 

“Is that Hagrid?” Shaklebolt demanded. “Why’s he in there? And who’s that kid? Tom Marvolo Riddle…never heard of him. Muggleborn, I guess.” 

“And that’s Moaning Myrtle! Creepy…I’ve never seen her alive before.” 

“You know that girl?”

“Only as a ghost; she haunts a bathroom at Hogwarts.”   
   
 

 

“Rufus! Rufus! I demand you do something!” 

Rufus Scrimgeour and Madame Bones looked up as a very flustered Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, bustled through the door, followed by a smugly smiling Dolores Umbridge.

“They have a pseudo-dark mark on the front page! It’s an outrage, in poor taste, and will upset the public!” Fudge cried while waving the paper around.

“Nasty little troublemakers should be dealt with before they become a danger to the public good.” Umbridge added piously.

Fudge spluttered when Bones and Scrimgeour just looked at him.

“I take it you didn’t actually read the article.” Scrimgeour sighed. “Read it, then we’ll talk.” 

“Why aren’t you both more outraged by this?”

“Read the article, Cornelius. Dolores, if there’s nothing else, you can run along now.” Bones added. Umbridge drew herself up indignantly, but Bones and Scrimgeour just looked at her, while Fudge was hesitantly flipping through the pages of the paper, looking for the article.

“Tom? What’s he doing in here? The man’s been dead for years!” Fudge murmured distractedly.

“You knew Tom Riddle?”

“Hmmm? Oh…yes, that was his name, wasn’t it? No one ever called him that—they called him Tom Marvolo, or just Tom. I had quite forgotten his name was actually Riddle…He was my roommate in Hogwarts. He died sometime in the early fifties, I believe. Brilliant, that one. I always figured, if one of us were to become Minister for Magic, it would have been him, not me. Professor Slughorn always told him he could be Minister in fifteen years if he went to the Ministry after Hogwarts, but he said he wasn’t interested in politics. It’s funny how things work out—he was top student, member of the Slug Club, beloved by all…I was a nobody in those days, but look at me now.” 

“Dolores? Did you need something else?” Bones interjected. Umbridge shot a frustrated look at the still-distracted Fudge, and huffed a bit when he didn’t insist she stay. Defeated, she finally left, shutting the door with just a bit too much force as she exited the room.  
 

 

Bones and Scrimgeour waited quietly until Fudge finished the article. When he did he set it aside with a troubled look on his face. He withdrew his handkerchief and mopped at his brow. “It’s mad, is what it is…Tom Marvolo, You-Know-Who? Madness…” He let out a deep breath and seemed to regain his composure. “I don’t believe a word of it. It makes no sense at all!”

“I don’t know, I think he made a pretty good case.” Scrimgeour objected.

“Oh, I don’t think he’s lying, but, well, he’s a child--he wasn’t even alive back then, was he? It makes no sense, you see. Tom was good looking, at least the girls all seemed to think so—half of them spent more time sighing over him than they did on schoolwork. You-Know-Who was a freaky-looking monster. Tom was brilliant—why, I can’t even count the number of times that teachers were simply gobsmacked by what he could do. You-Know-Who, well, he was scary, certainly, but he wasn’t brilliant. What did he do? Blew up bridges, threw around unforgivables like they were going out of style! Tom could have been Minister of Magic in fifteen years—Slughorn was willing to say that outright, that’s how certain he was. He wasn’t interested in politics; the only thing he wanted was to stay at Hogwarts and be the DADA teacher. You-Know-Who spent thirty years on the run as a criminal trying to take over Britain with no success. Tom was charming and well-loved—students looked up to him, teachers adored him. You-Know-Who, well, who wanted anything to do with him but nutters, monsters, and people too afraid to say no? What possible reason would make Tom into You-Know-Who? I’m sure Dolores agrees with me, don’t you…Dolores? Oh…she’s gone. I’m surprised. I would have thought she’d have stuck around once I mentioned Tom…though maybe not. They didn’t get along so well. They were prefects together, you know. She was a bit put out when he was invited to the Slug Club but she wasn’t” he confided “but don’t tell her I told you that.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Bones said dryly.

“In any case, that Lord Thingy fellow probably went to Beauxbatons.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, I should think it was obvious—French name, and he was obviously part creature. They let them in Beauxbatons, but not in Hogwarts, not when it’s that obvious anyway. Obviously, he couldn’t have gone to Hogwarts, and therefore wasn’t Tom Riddle, who was already dead anyway. He’s some barmy French aristocrat trying to recreate the Norman invasion or something. Whatever the case, he was a nutter, that much was clear.” 

“That’s a very…unique…interpretation.” Scrimgeour allowed.

“It makes perfect sense to me.”  
   
 

   
Harry kept himself loose and his face as calm and impassive as he could make it as he entered the Melting Pot. So far, no one had reacted badly, but for all he knew, they were waiting to ambush him. He smiled and nodded to people as he entered the room and made his way to his usual seat. He saw a few wary looks, though no one looked horrified or frightened beyond belief. He saw a few calculating looks, a few that seemed curious. So far, so good. That was when things took a turn for the weird.

“Oi, Potter. Chat him up, would you? He’s been acting a bit off since I brought him to school and I don’t know why.”

Harry turned and found Blaise Zabini, wearing his usual haughty, I’m too good for the air you breathe look, holding a tank with an albino snake contained within. There were four other Slytherins lined up behind him with similar tanks. 

Harry just sat back and raised an eyebrow—he’d learned that Slytherins were all about reciprocity: I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Hufflepuffs drove them to distraction because they would usually just cheerfully do you a favor without the outright expectation of anything in return—though of course, the Hufflepuffs did in fact expect you to cheerfully do them a favor in turn if they were ever in need. The problem with Hufflepuffs, as Slytherins saw it, is that they refused to name a price or service that could be given in exchange as they found that too mercenary. Slytherins didn’t like open-ended contracts. Knowing that, Harry considered what he could ask for in return—it was a small favor he was asking for, after all. 

“My owl was very fond of whatever treat you gave her the other day.” He said casually. The slight tension in Zabini’s body dissipated and he gave a sardonic smile as he set the tank down on the coffee table. “My mother’s special recipe. I’ll ask her to send an extra package next time.”

He made similar arrangements with the other four—a book he’d mentioned once that the kid just happened to have made an extra copy of, a box of fudge, a box of sugar quills, a ring that would warn you if you’d been poisoned. 

“I charmed it myself, it works, don’t worry. I figured you had that bezoar in your pocket—it’ll be more useful if you know you need to use it.” 

“True. Thanks.” 

The snakes’ ailments were easy enough to discover, he didn’t even have to talk to all five of them.

“They’re cold blooded—they depend on outside heat sources to regulate their body temperatures; that’s why they can be found sunning themselves on hot rocks and such. Their tanks are too cold. You should charm up a hot stone or something for them.”

“I’ve been casting heating charms on the rock in my tank, but it always wears off.”

“I don’t know how to do permanent enchantments. I suppose you could ask Flitwick—he’s always happy to help out with stuff like that, and he usually gives extra credit or house points if he’s impressed enough.” 

A crowd had gathered while he was chatting up the snakes—a few people looked a bit creeped out (and amusingly enough, some of those folks were Slytherins), but most looked curious. He figured it was a small mercy that most of the Ravenclaw types had gone off to the library to check on the primary sources he’d cited in the article about the chamber—otherwise he’d probably be being dissected right about now, or at the very least being questioned extensively while they attempted to generate a parselmouth lexicon. He figured he might as well resign himself to it happening sooner or later, and really, he shouldn’t complain—things could have gone far, far worse.   
   
“Hey, what time is it anyway?”

“Just gone half three, why?” Ron wondered.

“I was going to go to the portrait lecture on cheese making.”

“Why do you want to know how to make cheese?”

“Why not? I went to the one on wine-making too, and the one on basic alchemy, warding, tips and tricks to make your garden grow, basic first aid, and the ‘all you need to know to run a successful household’ too.”

“Why do you need to know all that? In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a boy.” Ron said with some horror.

“And what does that have to do with anything? Say my wife dies unexpectedly young, and I’m left with a house full of children to care for, it would be nice to know they wouldn’t starve or end up living in their own filth, wouldn’t it? Or maybe she wants a career, or she’s just not particularly good with children or household care—same thing. Plus, I’m not planning on getting married anytime soon, and I’m also rather independent. I want to know that I can lose everything, and be dropped naked in the wilderness with only my wand and still get by alright. That’s something I think every witch or wizard should strive for; you never know what the future will hold, or how your fortunes might reverse.” 

“And cheese-making will help you do that?” Draco said doubtfully.

“Every little bit of knowledge helps. If all else fails, I can make cheese for a living until I get myself back on my feet.” 

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic? I mean, what exactly do you think is going to happen?” Zacharias Smith wondered.

“My parents were murdered when I was a little over a year old, and that completely obliterated whatever idyllic childhood I might have had growing up with them. Who’s to say I won’t suffer similar catastrophes in my life? You just never know, do you? By the time I leave school, I intend to know how to defend myself, set up, ward and take care of my own home, grow my own potions ingredients and food, make my own food, heal whatever minor hurts I or my family might accrue on a day to day basis, and whatever else comes along. Magic is such a tremendous gift—we insult that gift if we don’t use it to its fullest.” 

“I think learning to make cheese sounds like fun.” Ginny piped up.

“Big surprise there.” Cho Chang said coldly.

“How’s Cedric, by the way?” Ginny sniped back, with a cold smile on her face. Cho’s eyes widened, then narrowed with dislike. “So, that was you, was it? I should have known.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ginny said sweetly. “I just heard it around, same as everyone else.” 

She turned back to face Harry. “I’ll go with…where’d he go?”

“He, Neville, Dean, Tracey and Millicent left to go to the cheese making lecture.” Lavender told her helpfully.

“I’ll go with you, if you like.” Colin offered. Ginny gave him a scathing look and stomped out of the room.

“Geez, I’d hoped she’d be friendlier now that those wrackspurt things were taken care of.” 

“I’ll go with you, if you like. I don’t know how to make cheese either.” Luna offered.

“Okay, thanks. I figure it’s something I can do over the summer—my dad’s a milkman, you know.” 

“That’s lucky.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Ron rolled his eyes at Luna and Colin, and turned around, only to find Draco Malfoy brooding and lost in thought. He suddenly jumped from his seat and chased after Luna and Colin. “Wait up! I’m coming too!”  
   
“What the hell? Why’s Malfoy going off to make bloody cheese? He’s got house elves!”

“His dad wanted to send him to Durmstrang.”

“Tch. Big surprise there, bloody dark wizards.”

Nott glared at him. “Because that whole bit Potter just said about being dropped naked in the woods with only your wand is practically Durmstrang’s credo. They expect their graduates to be able to literally go out into the middle of nowhere with nothing, should it ever be necessary, and have a thriving household within the year, even if the only thing they have is their wand and their magic. It just occurred to Draco that his father would probably be pleased to hear that he was attending the extra lectures, is all.”

“Why would anyone end up naked in the woods with only their wand? That’s the part I don’t get.”

“Don’t worry about the nakedness, it’s just a figure of speech. They just mean that you could be that badly off and still do fine because you have the skill and know-how to do it.”

“But even so, it seems rather mad, doesn’t it? I mean, what, is there some magical creature that kidnaps you and steals your clothes, and they built Durmstrang to help people deal with it? Why wasn’t something done about it?”

Nott stared at him blankly for a long moment and then rose from his seat. “I’m going to go learn how to make cheese.”   
   
 

November passed, and the weather grew colder and wetter. Several snowstorms blew in, one after another, and so by the time December rolled around, the grounds were buried under a couple feet of snow. Stan Shunpike, the new groundskeeper, could been seen struggling along, trying to clear pathways for the students to get to the greenhouses, and for himself to get to the various animals he had to take care of. Unlike Hagrid, who by virtue of his great size, did that just by striding across the grounds, Stan had to actually move and clear the snow. He was looking quite exhausted by the time the third snowfall rolled around. 

The second quidditch game of the season—Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff took place. Cho, who was seeker for Ravenclaw, grabbed the snitch in the second hour, winning the game for Ravenclaw 190-70. She was surrounded by friends and well-wishers, and whisked off to go celebrate in Hogsmeade. 

“Took her long enough to find the snitch. Had it been me, I’d have had the game wrapped up an hour ago at least.” Ginny sniffed.

“Yes, she’s not very good, is she? I’m surprised Ravenclaw keeps her on.” Hermione agreed.

“Since when do you care about quidditch?” Neville wondered.

“I don’t, but really, we’ve been sitting out here forever.”

“I feel I should point out, she’s better than the Hufflepuff seeker.” 

“Yes, well, he’s not very good either. What was his name?”

“Stevens. He’s a seventh year.”

“Well, I certainly hope he has something to fall back on, and wasn’t planning to make a career out of quidditch.” 

“Let’s get inside, I’m getting cold.” Ron complained. 

“Where’s Harry?”

“He left when you started bragging.” 

 Ginny scowled, and then just looked morose and depressed. “I don’t understand! Why doesn’t he notice me?”

“He notices you just fine—he’s just not interested.” Parvati scoffed.

“But why?” Ginny whined. “I have red hair, his mum had red hair—mum said boys always go for girls that remind them of their mums!”

“Harry doesn’t remember his mum.” Neville muttered, disturbed. His own mother, due to her injury and long hospitalization, had grey hair. Of course, like Harry, he hadn’t been raised by his mum—he’d been raised by his gran, who also had grey hair. That really couldn’t be all there was to it—there had to be something more. His gran also marched around getting in people’s faces and ordering them around. He glanced sideways at Hermione and Ginny, both of whom he’d briefly taken a fancy to, and shuddered. He’d had enough of all that with gran, thanks. He wanted to find a nice, quiet girl, who was easy-going, knew how to cook, and enjoyed gardening. 

He spotted Hannah Abbot down among the crowd of Hufflepuffs on the ground. They were consoling their players on their loss, and giving them a pep talk. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed, then watched as Hannah glanced down and dug hers out. 

“Hi, Hannah…it’s me, Neville. Huh? Oh, I’m up in the stands. Oh, nothing much…I just wanted to ask you a question….huh? Oh! Yeah…um…do you like gardening at all? You do? Brilliant. No…that was all. Oh, sure, I’ll meet you at the base of the Gryffindor stands.” Neville smiled brightly and smoothed down his hair, then straightened his cloak and scarf. He found everyone looking at him expectantly, and his face went red.

“I’m just…meeting Hannah. We’re going to head off to the clubhouse to make sure everything is ready for the show tonight.” He smiled again, and headed towards the stairs, whistling.  
 

Harry stopped in front of an entrance to the come and go room and let out a sigh. Cho was off celebrating in Hogsmeade—and he still wasn’t sure where he stood with her. Ginny was starting up her antics again, and he was in no mood to deal with it at the moment. He’d been avoiding Hermione as best he could since she’d gotten out of the hospital, though it hadn’t been doing much good. 

She seemed to feel that, since she’d had wrackspurts, they should all now just be the best of friends, and forget about that whole ‘accused you of attempted murder’ thing. The problem was, she hadn’t changed at all—she still tried to boss him around and control him, and still acted like she had a right to. She also was under the mistaken impression that he’d rescinded the eviction notice he’d given her parents, because after all, it had just been a big mistake hadn’t it? 

He hadn’t—in fact, they were already out of the house and all moved in to a new place. Sirius had felt bad about the situation and had helped them out. They had confided that they were really much more comfortable in a normal house. The keep had seemed quite neat when they’d first gotten there, but after the initial novelty had worn off, it had started to lose some of its charm. Harry planned to see the place locked down over the holidays—he wasn’t so in need of money that he really needed tenants. He figured he’d be happier all around to just know the place was empty and waiting for when he turned 17.  
   
In a way, the many troubles with women he was having were a godsend, as they gave him an excuse to sneak off for a bit on his own. He enjoyed hanging out with friends and having fun as much as the next bloke, but he still found it wearing to be constantly surrounded by people day and night. He needed time on his own now and again. Most of his Gyffindor house mates didn’t seem to understand that, nor did the Hufflepuffs—to most of them, being alone was a situation that was to be avoided, and someone wanting to be alone only happened if they were sick, or something was wrong, and so they followed you and tried to figure out what your problem was. It was annoying to someone like himself who was a bit of a loner, and needed a chance to be quiet and brood once in a while.   
   
Harry had been looking into weather magic now and again as he’d found time to do so. Someone had made an offhand comment about how it was too bad Hogwarts wasn’t like Camelot, since according to the musical there was weather control on that castle. Knowing that Camelot and Hogwarts had both been around at the same time, he’d begun wondering if Hogwarts had such a thing. He’d asked Remus to take a look in his first edition Hogwarts a history to find out, as he himself hadn’t read much beyond the first few chapters that had laid out the political climate at the time that had led the Founders to head up to northern Scotland to build a school—the actual building of the castle and later developments were covered in later chapters. 

To his delight, Remus had affirmed that yes, they had supposedly built in such a thing—he figured the weather was too complicated for them to actually get it to work the way the Camelot song suggested. Harry wondered if it was simply broken or turned off—and he was hoping to find out. He tried to formulate his inquiry as clearly as possible, and hoped for the best as he paced back and forth. When he opened the door, he saw something weird—cool, but weird. He shut the door behind him with a snap and willed it to vanish. He didn’t want to be disturbed.  
   
Inside the room was Hogwarts in miniature—miniature in that it was obviously much smaller than the real Hogwarts; that didn’t mean it was small exactly. The top floor would probably be level with the head of a tall man, the towers stood higher still. Even the miles of dungeons were represented, as a platform that Hogwarts stood upon that had steps arching over them, so one could stand in the ‘courtyard’. Harry climbed, and found himself both feeling oddly dwarfed and giant-sized at the same time—an odd feeling to say the least. The whole contraption was rendered in pale stone that looked rather like ivory—or perhaps it was ivory, who knew? The whole contraption was incised with runes and symbols, with lines of flowing script connecting them, and beneath his feet, in the courtyard were more intricate symbols. Judging by his request to see the controls to regulate the weather, he guessed this must be the master ward controls. He didn’t mind admitting he hadn’t the slightest idea of where to even begin.

“Is there an owner’s manual, by any chance?” Harry asked hopefully. 

A very large book appeared at his feet, made of the same stone as the castle was, though he was able to pick it up easily—probably a load of feather-light charms embedded in it. He flipped it open and found it to be written in a language he didn’t understand—old English, if he wasn’t mistaken. He thought it looked rather like the bit of Beowulf he’d seen in his English text book at school, anyway. 

“I don’t suppose there’s anyone in the castle that can read this, is there?” Harry sighed, while taking a seat on the courtyard floor.

“What am I doing here? For that matter, what are you doing here?”

“Ah, Grey Lady…I believe Hogwarts brought you here to help me. I wanted to check and see if the weather controls were activated, and Hogwarts brought me here, but I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea how to check, and I can’t read the manual.” Harry explained.

The Grey Lady looked around and then shrugged. “Well, I suppose it does give me a reprieve from the Baron’s attentions—and really, I’m the best person to make sure you don’t do anything foolish. I’m quite familiar with the system—my mother did design the castle, after all.”

“Your mother was Rowena Ravenclaw? Wow.”

“Yes, I’m Helena. Open the book, would you? It’s been awhile since I’ve needed to read the wards.”

Harry stood and held the book open for her to read, flipping pages now and then while she checked different symbols and muttered to herself.

“Why…the entire ward scheme is all wrong! It’s a terrible mess! I was going to scold you, but you might have done a very good thing by sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong…although, I suppose you must be a Founder’s heir to have even been allowed in here.” She mused.

“Slytherin’s, actually. So, are you the one who put the diadem in a tree in Albania?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I’m not sure, actually. I just sort of knew it had been there when I looked at it.”

“You looked at it? You mean you’ve seen it?”

“You told Tom Riddle about it, didn’t you? He brought it back to the castle, and the castle gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you? My mother’s diadem?” Helena demanded, sounding outraged.

“I inherited from him—if you gave it to him, then technically, I guess it’s mine now. I actually think it might be anchoring the DADA curse—at least, there is a curse on it, DADA curse seems likely. I didn’t really think of that until Lockhart was petrified.” Harry explained.

“Why didn’t you remove it then?”

“I’m only a second year, geez. I had someone helping me, but he was kinda bewildered too. Now that I think I know what the curse is, I suppose we’ll have more luck from here on out—I guess we’ll see.” 

Helena still looked unhappy, but she nodded.

“If you’re Tom Riddle’s heir, and you’re heir of Slytherin, I suppose it does belong to you.” She admitted rather grudgingly. “I died without heirs, and my mother's sisters married into the Slytherin and Gryffindor families. Sir Nicholas was the last of my one aunt's descendants, so the only line of inheritance would run through the Slytherin line.”

“Sir Nick descended from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw? Weird—he thinks I might be his descendant too…he’s not sure—he said his line went squib and he lost track of them.”

“Why does he think it then?”

“He said my mother’s particular shade of red hair and green eyes were a trait of his family, and she was muggleborn. Her sister and her parents were all blonde.”

“There’s probably a good chance that she is then. How curious—though it would certainly explain why Hogwarts let you in here if it’s true.”

“Weird…all I’m missing is Hufflepuff.”

“Oh, you might have a bit of her too. She had seven children, and each of them had at least a half-dozen children of their own. With numbers like that, I’d be surprised if there was a wizard alive that didn’t have some part of her line in them.” 

“Cool. So, you said the wards were weird? What’s wrong with them?”

“The headmaster seems to be holding all of them.”

“He’s not supposed to?”

“Hardly! Think of how large the castle and grounds are, how many students, how many teachers…that’s far too much for any one person to keep track of! I can’t imagine how… unless… Yes, that must be it. The last Tri-Wizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts. There was a cockatrix that ran amok, killed the headmasters, and injured most of the teaching staff badly enough that they were left unfit for service. The one teacher that was left became headmaster that year. If I recall correctly, he hadn’t even been a head of house—I suppose he didn’t realize he wasn’t supposed to have all the wards. I never thought to check… one does rather lose track of the passage of time, and well, it’s not really my concern anymore, is it? However, now that I’m aware there’s a problem, I suppose it behooves me to do what I can to correct it. You shall have to help me, of course. It’s quite terrible—several of the wards are turned off, and what’s left is all being held by one person, instead of being shared among seven as they were meant to be. It will never do. Come along, do exactly as I tell you.”

“What wards are turned off?”

“The weather controls and the ‘no corpse’ ward.”

“No corpse ward?”

“A barbaric practice of siege warfare—they would fling their dead, and those fallen from the castle they were attacking when they ran out of ammunition. We were expecting a muggle army to arrive at some point, of course, so it seemed like a good idea.”

“People don’t really engage in siege warfare anymore—that’s probably why it got turned off.”

“It will also keep out inferi, zombies, dementors--so long as they still have flesh--and flung corpses.” Helena chided.

“Oh, in that case, by all means, turn it on.”   
   
 

 

“What’s that? Does it seem…quiet to you?”

“Yeah, it does…”

All around the castle, students and teachers alike—everyone who wasn’t down in Hogsmeade—stepped out and looked around. The castle was eerily quiet.  
“The stairs aren’t moving. I don’t think any of the rooms are either.”

“What on earth?”

“Is the castle broken?”

“Maybe it’s sick?”

“Why did it just stop like that?”

McGonagall, who was bustling out to demand answers from someone, suddenly staggered and then looked gobsmacked. Flitwick staggered a moment later, and looked just as shocked. Sprout, who was comforting frightened first years, staggered next, and then Snape did. The four of them exchanged a look.  
Everyone jumped when the front doors opened with a crash admitting Stan Shunpike, just as Filch came staggering up from his office looking frightened and horrified. 

“There’s grass growing under the snow, and I know about it! I know where the hippogriff herds are, and that folks are coming in and out of the gate!” Stan shrieked.

“HA! You think that’s bad? The whole lower half of the dungeons are filled with pests! Thousands of them!” Filch shrieked next. “I can’t get rid of all them myself!” he protested, looking ready to weep. “It’s a mercy we’ve not all been devoured!” 

“Argus!” McGonagall hissed warningly, while glancing significantly at the students—many of whom were now frightened.

“They’ve a right to know there’s an army of pests all ready to ascend through the castle!”

“ARGUS!”

“You don’t understand! It’s awful!... PEEVES! You stop that right now!” he suddenly shrieked, while taking off at high speed down the hall. 

The castle suddenly started moving again, restoring the low background hum of noise that was the normal sound of living at Hogwarts, and everyone let out a sigh of relief. 

“Everything is fine now, run along. The castle was just resetting itself.”

“Everything’s okay then?”

“Why did it need to reset itself?”

“Are you sure the castle isn’t sick?”

“Everything is fine, run along.” McGonagall repeated more firmly. 

After the children left the area, the remaining teachers sidled up.

“What’s really going on?”

“The wards seem to have been adjusted for some reason. The four of us, Argus and Stan each seem to have a portion of them…oh, Merlin, Albus! You don’t think something has happened to him?” 

The group turned, almost as one, and began charging up the stairs. They had just reached the gargoyle when they ran into the Grey Lady.

“Oh, all of you are here, that’s good. I just fixed the wards, they were all terribly muddled. It was never intended that the headmaster carry the full set—they were set up with seven ward anchors in mind. You may thank me now.” 

“Um, thank you, dear lady.” Flitwick dutifully replied.

“You’re quite welcome. In the future, don’t lower the flung corpse ward—it also keeps out zombies and other corpse-related pests. It’s a very useful ward, and it’s there for a reason.” 

Having said her piece, she floated through a wall and disappeared. 

“Do you think this is why Dippet went the way he did? Because he was carrying all the wards? How could he stand it? I’m slightly overwhelmed and I’m just aware of where all my students are in the castle and my house!” Sprout murmured.

“Same here. Goodness, poor Albus! It must have been such a terrible strain! It’s no wonder he was always complaining of having too many thoughts, and being so busy! The poor man!” McGonagall murmured. 

“All the students, all the houses, all the pests, peeves, and all the grounds? We’re lucky he wasn’t driven mad!” Snape agreed. 

“We should go check on Albus—I imagine it must be quite a shock, having his mind mostly to himself once more.”   
 

 

McGonagall nearly faltered for a moment upon entering the headmaster’s office—it was the first time she’d ever seen him so afraid.

_“Of course he’s worried, you goose!”_ she told herself sternly _“It must have seemed that the castle, grounds, and all the students all just vanished into thin air—if he was up here, he doesn’t know the Grey Lady just upped and decided to mess about with the wards for some reason, or that she actually shut off the bloody castle for a bit!”_

“Albus! I imagine you must be a bit confused… The Grey Lady decided to reset the wards—apparently she noticed they were set up wrong or something—she said they were meant to be held by seven people, not one. I can only imagine the terrible strain you’ve been under, but it’s alright now—she reset them back to how they were supposed to be, and now we, Argus and Mr. Shunpike each have a share. It’s really for the best—I’m sure you agree.” 

“It must be quite a relief—no one person can successful keep track of so many details. Well, now that we’re each carrying our share of the load that will no longer be a problem.” 

Dumbledore forced himself to relax and smiled as best he could. He could already tell he would have little success in taking back the wards they were now holding, with the way they all kept nattering on about it being ‘for the best’ and ‘such a relief’. They didn’t understand at all—for nearly fifty years now he had held all the wards, quite successfully, he might add. Why, he and Hogwarts castle were practically indistinguishable—he was Hogwarts. Losing the wards, except for the small portion that was evidently the headmaster’s share—the outer defenses, the teachers and staff, and the internal defenses for the center portion of the castle—those parts not covered under the head of houses’ portions of the wards—it was like being struck blind and deaf, and shrinking down from the size of a mountain-sized god of the highlands to become an ordinary human again. He didn’t like it, at all—he was Hogwarts, therefore no one had the right to take any part of Hogwarts from him…

And yet, he felt lighter, as though he had just set down a heavy burden. There was a tiny portion of himself that was somewhat relieved. Relieved. It was inexplicable. He had prided himself all his life on his purity of purpose and ambition. He had never second-guessed himself, or doubted the things he needed to do to achieve his aims. To be relieved upon having part of the burden removed from him implied that he wasn’t as certain of his plans as he’d thought he was. 

It was so quiet. 

He hadn’t realized how much of his mind was dedicated to watching over the wards until now. His mind was still and nearly silent from their absence. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, to be honest. 

He listened with half an ear to the heads as they kept chattering at him—without the castle whispering in his ears to the same extent it used to, it was a simple matter to keep track of what they were saying while barely paying them any mind. 

“You might want to go get the caretaker under control—he seems to have been overwhelmed by the wards.” Phinneas Nigellus told everyone as he sauntered into his frame and seated himself.

“Overwhelmed? Is he alright? He’s not taken ill has he?”

“Not overwhelmed like that—as best I can figure, he’s fretting himself silly about how Albus has let the castle deteriorate during his tenure as headmaster.”

Dumbledore focused and glared at Phinneas in offense.

“The house elves are so distressed by his angst, they’re running madly through the halls trying to take care of everything at once, while weeping over dinner—which they seem to have been in the middle of preparing.” He explained. 

They all sighed, and trooped back downstairs to try to restore some order to the castle.  
 

 

   
Sprout sighed and sunk into her comfy armchair in the Teacher’s Lounge, and conjured her footstool from her room.

“My word, what a day. How’s Argus doing?”

The gathered teachers all glanced at Filch, who was ensconced in an armchair in the corner, dozing peacefully.

“We loaded him up on calming draughts and convinced him that we’d organize some teams of students to help with the problem areas. It seems to have worked; the elves have stopped trying to sneak out of the kitchen so they could go dust or fix up crumbled stonework.” 

“I had no idea parts of the castle were in such poor repair—but then, I suppose it’s only to be expected. I don’t believe I’ve ventured outside of the most heavily trafficked areas in at least a decade—probably longer. I’ve just never had any real reason to wander the odd corners of the castle.” Flitwick murmured.

“None of us has had reason, really. I was no more aware of the state of parts of the castle than you were.” McGonagall admitted ruefully. “I knew there were empty classrooms around my transfiguration room, near Gryffindor, and my office and quarters, but they’re all in good shape, and reasonably clean for unused rooms.”

“It really is fortunate the Grey Lady got it into her head to mess about—though I do still wonder what possessed her. Since when are any of the ghosts that concerned with the affairs of the living? We might have had part of the ceiling cave in on a wandering student one day, and where would we have been then?” Sprout agreed.

Dumbledore wandered in and found himself a seat at the end of the table. He’d been a bit ‘off’ since losing the wards earlier, and they weren’t quite sure what to make of it. He didn’t seem ill, or in any distress, so they’d left it alone for the moment—they were all quietly monitoring him though. 

“Good evening, everyone.”

“Albus. That was quite a show our young puppeteers put on earlier, wasn’t it? I have to say, I’m really quite impressed with all of them.” Sprout spoke up cheerfully.

“They really are something, aren’t they? I must admit I enjoyed the last performance better, but then the ‘Fountain of Fair Fortune’ was always one of my favorites.” Charity offered. “I thought they did a particularly good job on it.”

“I thought they did a fair job with ‘Babity-Rabity’…and oh, how I loathe that title. There really isn’t anyway to say it and sound dignified.” 

“Oh, Severus, you’re far too young to be so concerned with dignity.” Flitwick chortled.

 “While I will agree the children did a commendable job, I’m really not sure the story was at all appropriate.” Dumbledore mused.

“Not appropriate? It’s a classic children’s story!” Professor Septima Vector objected.

“I always rather enjoyed it when I was a child.” Professor Babbling agreed. “I can remember wanting to be a rabbit animagus when I was a child—I wanted to be able to play tricks on my brother. Sadly, I never seemed to have the knack for transfiguration, so I never did become an animagus.” 

“Why didn’t you like the show, Albus?” McGonagall wondered.

“I don’t like all the muggle bashing—how can we ever find peace between our peoples if we continue to sling around such stereotypes?” he sighed mournfully.

“I would hardly call it bashing—there is a historical basis for the story, after all. We didn’t go into hiding for no reason. As for peace between our peoples—I think we all realize that will never happen. We are separate from them, and they don’t know we exist—it is highly unlikely that will ever change.” Snape pointed out.

 “I think you’re looking at it all wrong—we are at peace, Albus. As Severus said, they don’t know we exist, and so they’re not bothering us for magical solutions to their problems, or hunting us down while trying to steal the secret of magic, like the king in the story—or any number of folks did historically. It’s the best we can hope for, really.” Flitwick agreed.

“Still, I imagine it must be rather distressing for the poor muggleborn students, seeing muggles much like their own parents, being vilified and made sport of in such a way.” Dumbledore chided.

“I would think it would be more distressing being in the muggle world, listening to muggle fairy tales—they all figure wicked witches and evil sorcerers of various sorts, all of whom eat children for fun. I think they would feel more ill at ease with that, as they themselves are witches and wizards. It must be rather a treat, really, to have a witch be the hero of the piece for once.” Snape objected. 

“I’m sorry Albus, but I think Severus has the right of it. From what I’ve gathered from the students, it was the muggle-born and muggle-raised that were most excited about these puppet shows and the fact they were using wizard tales in them. They don’t know the stories or the songs or the dances that those born and raised in our world take for granted. These puppet shows and the seasonal dances they’ve decided to resume, have both had the effect of pulling the muggleborn more firmly into the wizarding community, not the reverse. That’s always been the problem—they came in as outsiders, and they stayed that way, because we’ve gone to such lengths to strip the obvious differences away so as to make them more comfortable. The end result is that they never get the shared culture—often don’t realize there is any shared culture they’re missing. Those wizard born and raised resent them because their culture is stripped away to make the muggle-born comfortable. I think we may have been going about things all wrong.” McGonagall agreed.

 “If only things were as simple as you make them seem, Minerva!” Dumbledore sighed. “Those things were not removed to make the muggleborn more comfortable—they were removed because the muggles have become so numerous that seasonal gatherings to call up old magic became problematical. Those things were slowly weeded out because of secrecy. The children all seemed so happy, I didn’t have the heart to ruin their little dance—I fear I may have done them a disservice though. What use are those dances and songs and stories, when the chains of secrecy make them untenable? How disappointed they all will be to discover that all those little dances they learned are not allowed under current Ministry regulations, except at Hogwarts, which is the one place we can assure that no muggles will be close enough to notice. Stories villainizing muggles, when our last difficulties with them were centuries back, will only continue the trend of muggle-baiting and persecution at the hands of dark wizards. Such stories should, in my opinion, be left far in the past where they belong.” He sighed again and shook his head. “Alas, dear friends, it is getting late, and I have a bit of correspondence to see to before I turn in. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Albus.”  
“Sleep well.” 

 “Well…he certainly knows how to put a dampener on a conversation, doesn’t he? And all of you are always complaining about me.” Snape grumbled.

“Well, he has a point, I suppose—though outlawing dancing seems wrongheaded, even by the standards of the Ministry.” 

“Severus? Something wrong?” Septima Vector asked.

“I’m…not sure.”  
“Did a bunch of your students just disappear?” Sprout asked.  
“Yes…yours?” Snape agreed.  
“A bunch of mine as well.”  
“We’d best investigate.” McGonagall commanded, already out of her seat and halfway out the door.

“Students disappeared? How? Are they hurt? Should we call Madame Pomfrey?” Babbling asked.

“We’ll decide that once we discover what happened.” Flitwick assured them.   
 

 

The teachers started towards the dungeons and began walking, with the heads of house in the lead, trying to hone in on the spot they’d felt a bunch of their students disappearing.

“What on earth were all our students doing down here anyway? There’s nothing down here!” McGonagall muttered.

“The little beasts are probably setting up ambushes for my students.” Snape grumbled.

“Wasn’t Argus saying something about thousands of pests, waiting to devour us all?” Sprout reminded them.

“Oh good heavens!” Flitwick gasped. 

“That still wouldn’t explain what they were doing in the dungeons in the first place though.”

“Some of your idiot Gryffindors probably went looking for the infernal things, the Ravenclaws went so they could take notes, the Hufflepuffs so they could offer first aid, and the Slytherins to laugh at all of them.” 

“Wasn’t that pretty much their plan for dealing with the troll they thought would be at the Sorting?” Flitwick chuckled.

“More or less, hence my comments…I think they disappeared around here somewhere…”

“Spread out?” Sprout asked, already pulling her wand and striding ahead. 

“I don’t hear anything. You’d think a horde of child-devouring pests would be hard to miss.” Flitwick joked as he began checking for hidden doors, hidden passages, hidden trapdoors and the like, while Snape just began casting ‘revelio hominem’ to try to find any hidden children.

“I’ve got a hidden door.” Sprout called. 

“Don’t tell me the castle is flinging the children about again.” Snape said resignedly.

“No…this particular door can’t be seen by anyone older than fourteen.” Sprout said with some amusement.

“There are at least a few dozen children behind it.” McGonagall added, quite confused.

“What are a few dozen children doing hiding out in the dungeons?” Flitwick wondered.

“I should think it was obvious! They’ve made themselves a little clubhouse!” Sprout cooed.

“Den of iniquity, more like.” 

“Severus really! Must you be such a gloomy gus all the time?” 

“Hmph!” Snape huffed, before casting a spell at the door.

 Suddenly, the teachers could hear the sound of many children talking at once.

__  
“Are you sure it’s teachers? What are they doing here? Did someone get followed?”  
“I knew this was a bad idea! We’re all going to get in trouble. I’m telling them it was all your idea!”  
“Oh, get stuffed, Granger.”   
“Everyone, stop panicking. Just go back to what you were doing. I’ll see what they want.”   
“Are you sure you don’t want a few of us to stay with you, you know, for backup?”  
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure it’s not necessary.”  
“Are you sure, boss? It could get dicey.”  
“What, exactly, do you think they’re going to do to me? That’s it, no more gangster movies for you.”   
“Why’re you calling him boss? I’m boss!”   
“You told us to stop following you around except when it looked like maybe someone wanted to hex you or punch you, remember?”  
“How could you steal my minions like that?”  
“See, this is the problem man…when we’re with him, we’re associates, which is a step up from minions. If you want us back you’re going to have to offer us something.”   
“It’s a step up from goon too.”  
“Whoa, we’re really moving up in the world, huh?”  
“What about thug?” Draco wondered.  
“I think associate still outranks that.”  
“Guys? Could you take your discussion of gangland hierarchy elsewhere? We don’t want to give the teachers the wrong idea.”  
“Sorry boss.”   
“Why don’t you grab some chairs and put them in the back, just in case they want to stay for the presentations, and I’ll go talk to them.”   
“Sure thing.”   
  

 

Harry Potter seemed to suddenly materialize in front of them, and they heard the sound of a door shutting behind him.

“Good evening, Professors, can I help you?”

“Potter, what is the meaning of this?”

“It’s a general term to indicate a thing near to you.”

Professor McGonagall stared at him in blank incomprehension for a moment, not sure what to make of his answer.  
Professor Flitwick started snickering, though he quickly hid it.

“What is this place?” Sprout wondered.

“It’s the Melting Pot.”

“Melting Pot? Stand aside, Potter, we haven’t time for your nonsense.”

Harry crossed his arms and looked at him reproachfully. Snape looked abashed for about half a second, but then mustered up his sneer once more.

“I can’t just let you go barging in there all in a dudgeon; Ernie and Stephen were nervous enough about their presentation already.”

“Potter, what the hell are you talking about? What is this place? Who all is in there? What’s going on?”

“This is the Melting Pot, all or most of the first, second and third years are present within. Stephen Cornfoot and Ernie MacMillan are giving a presentation about a broken item they just finished fixing” he held up a hand to halt the question he could see on the teacher’s lips “Before you ask, I can’t tell you what it is, since I’m out here with you and not watching the presentation.”

“Oh, well, we don’t want to make the poor boys uneasy.” Sprout assured him.

“Pomona, you’re not helping.”

“What? Young Mr. Cornfoot just has a slight confidence problem—we don’t want to undermine his efforts when he’s trying so hard to overcome it.”

“If I let all of you in, you’re going to have to be quiet until the presentation is over. I’ll see if I can rustle up some pamphlets or something to answer your questions in the meantime.” 

Harry opened the door and leaned his head inside.

The teachers heard the sound of two boys talking in the distance when the door opened. 

“Psst! Security!” Harry called quietly. They could hear a couple of chairs clatter to the floor, and the boys speaking faltered.

“Not you guys, door security. Don’t mind us, just keep going. Vince, Greg, if you want to be useful, rustle up some of the ‘brief history’ pamphlets we printed up.”

Harry rejoined them in the hall, smiling as though to say ‘don’t mind all the commotion, all is well” and then suddenly the blank stretch of wall behind him became a wooden door with a lit up sign that showed a melting pot, with the legend ‘The Melting Pot est. 1992’ beneath it. Michael Corner of Ravenclaw stood in the doorway, and behind him they could see row after row of students seated and watching something beyond their sight, though many of them were craning their heads to get a look at the teachers in the doorway. Harry held up a finger to his lips and beckoned them to follow him, then pointed them to the empty seats in the back row. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stood at either end with a handful of pamphlets in their hands. 

Not knowing what else to do in the surreal situation they found themselves in, the teachers sat down, listened to the presentation, and read their pamphlets.   
 

 

The last two weeks of school till the end of term ended up being rather odd. The first, second and third years were all aware of the teachers watching them during mealtimes as though they weren’t quite sure what to make of any of them. Those teachers they had classes with questioned them extensively on the sorts of things they had been doing while hidden away in the Melting Pot and asked for demonstrations. 

Professors Vector and Babbling invited the kids who were working on broken things to have lunch with them a couple of times over the weekend. They both seemed really jazzed about having students that were not only interested in their subject, but actively making use of it in their daily lives. They gave pointers on how to do what they were doing more easily and efficiently, and were able to explain why some things had worked as expected and why others hadn’t. 

Professor McGonagall asked about the ‘infamous study game’ the board of governors had mentioned, which led to a selection of teachers stopping by to watch a round of ‘Interrogation’. They had questions in there for the curriculum up to fifth year, and were thinking of just going for broke and adding sixth and seventh year questions as well—they’d played enough times by now that even the first years were finding themselves able to answer many of the questions that they hadn’t covered in class yet, simply from watching the games. They had to keep adding more and more obscure knowledge to trip each other up. 

To say the teachers were stunned would be putting it mildly. 

The kids were in high spirits when the end of term finally rolled around. They’d gotten through their end of term exams with little problem, the teachers were not only not angry at having found out about their ‘secret clubhouse’ they were actually quite supportive and interested in the things they’d been doing. All in all, things seemed to be going swimmingly, and now they had a ten day long break from Hogwarts to look forward to as well.   
   
 

 

The teachers gathered in the great hall as the last of the students left the castle.

“I can never get over how quiet it is here without the students around. Even when they’re being quiet, there’s still a low background roar of noise, just because there’s so many of them.” Sprout mused.

“One gets used to it, though I’ll admit I often find myself looking forward to the return of the students after a while—the castle does seem so terribly empty without them.” McGonagall agreed.

“Speak for yourself; I happen to enjoy the quiet.” 

“Oh, Severus, really.”   
“What?’

“So, this meeting we’re supposed to be having with the Board of Governors and the Board of Education, what is it about exactly?” Professor Sinistra asked.

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. I just hope it doesn’t take too long—I had plans of my own for the holidays. I don’t want to be stuck in meetings until the students return.” Professor Vector noted.

“Me either. I had hoped to visit my sister and her family.” Babbling agreed.

“I was going to see my grandchildren.” Sprout admitted.

“I was going to go skiing.” Flitwick said with a grin.

“Skiing? That’s when you strap boards to your feet and go haring down mountains?” Professor Kettleburn asked curiously.

“Yes, it sounds very exciting, doesn’t it? Muggles do it sometimes—I thought it looked interesting and wanted to try it myself.”

“You couldn’t pay me to do something like that.” Snape sneered.

“Oh, where’s your sense of adventure? I thought it looked like great fun.” 

“Oh, Filius, honestly!” 

“You know, that does sound like fun. Would you like company?”

“The more the merrier, I always say!” Flitwick answered cheerfully.

“Albus! You cannot be serious!”

“What? You only live once, after all.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday season, Barty and Nymphadora get a house, Harry gets a surprising revelation.

Harry smiled as they walked through the front door of Grimmauld Place—it almost felt like the house itself was welcoming him back. As much as he loved Hogwarts, he had to admit that it was nice to be home, even if just for a short time. 

“Come on, kiddo, everyone is inside waiting.”

Sirius led them to the large parlor off the antechamber. There was a large tree installed, but it, and the house, hadn’t yet been decorated. Remus, Adeline, Barty and Nymphadora were all seated within, chatting and sipping mulled cider when they arrived.

“Wow, a whole welcoming committee. I’m touched.”

“Hey, squirt, how’s life been treating you?” Dora greeted.

“Can’t complain. So what are all of you up to?”

“We were actually talking about last minute wedding stuff.”

“Wedding?”

“Duh” Dora scoffed. “Me and Barty, remember?”

“Well, I knew you were getting married, I didn’t realize it was happening any time soon.”

“The 29th—after Christmas and before New Year’s. I hope you’re happy, kiddo. We planned it so you and Draco could both attend.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where’s it being held?”

“Here, actually. We have gobs of flowers and whatnot that’ll be showing up after Christmas. The elves have been busy laying in food, polishing up the good silver, and dusting off the formal party tables and chairs for the ballroom. That reminds me, we have to get you dress robes—you’re going to need something for the Malfoy Christmas party, something for the wedding, and something for New Year’s.”

“Where are we going on New Year’s?”

“The Ministry. They’re having a big shindig to celebrate St. Mungo’s.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Oh, I guess it hasn’t made the papers yet. They found Apollo Bonham’s heir, which means the hospital can start operating normally again.”

“Why wasn’t it before?”

“Oh, right, I guess you wouldn’t know. Back during the war, Apollo Bonham disappeared. No one was sure what happened to him, because the keys for the St. Mungo’s vaults disappeared with him—the Bonham family owns it; it was founded by Mungo Bonham in the 1600’s. No one knew where he was, and no one had authorization to access the vaults, so it’s been operating through charitable donations ever since. I figured you’d already know all this, since it’s your friend Dean that is Apollo Bonham’s son.”

“I had no idea, and I’m pretty sure Dean doesn’t either, or he would have said something.”

“Maybe his mother wanted to tell him in person? Whatever the case, they wouldn’t have had any idea if you hadn’t of gotten the Ministry looking into the boy’s background.”  
“Wow. Dean’ll be thrilled to finally know his background. Does he have any other relatives?”

“He has an aunt, a couple of great-uncles, and a cousin…is she married right now? There might be an uncle by marriage too. She’s had so many husbands, I can’t really keep track.”

“She’s still with number seven, Mario Zabini.”

“Zabini? You mean Blaise Zabini is Dean’s cousin?”

“Yes, that would be him. So him, and his mother—Artemis Selwyn-Bagnold-Smethwyck-Etoile-Chorley-Stout-Zabini, nee Bonham.”

“Apollo and Artemis? Were they twins?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“But she’s been married seven times, and only has one kid, who’s my age? How does that work?”

“She wasn’t married to any of them very long—her husbands were all quite elderly and died within a few months of them being married. Naturally, a lot of rumors have gone around about her, but no one’s ever been able to prove that the deaths were anything but natural causes. She’s been with the last one, Zabini, for fourteen years, which helped quell a lot of the rumors. He’s only a bit older than she is, he’s still alive, and they had a child together. There’s still some suspicion—all her husbands left her quite a bit of gold, much to the dismay of their families. Personally, I think it’s probably those self-same families that are mostly fueling the lingering rumors. If they can have her thrown in prison, there’s a chance they can recoup whatever money was left to her. I think the men probably were just old, and died of natural causes. She probably got tired of it all, and looked for someone closer to her own age that she could count on to stick around for a while.” 

“Huh. I didn’t know all that. The only thing I really knew about Blaise’s mum is that she has a secret owl-treat recipe that Hedwig really likes. She sent me some after I talked to Blaise’s snake to find out what was wrong with it.” 

“Ah.”

“So…what was wrong with it?”

“Who? The snake? Nothing much, she was just too cold. It’s okay though, once they knew what the problem was, they were able to fix it.” He dug in the pouch at his belt and handed over a pamphlet to Remus, who had asked the question.

“Happy, Healthy Habitats for Tank-Dwelling Pets: A How-To Guide.” Remus read.

“Yep. We did some research on what all was needed for optimal conditions for snakes, toads, frogs, lizards, turtles and fish and then Professor Flitwick, Professor Babbling and Professor Vector gave us some tips on how to make it happen. Once we had all that, we printed up this booklet with step-by-step guidelines on what to do. All the snakes thanked me and said they were much more comfortable. Trevor still keeps trying to run off, but we think that’s because he’s trying to get back to the pond he was born in so he can mate, rather than any problem with Neville or the tank. Neville’s thinking about getting him a girlfriend to see if that helps.”

The adults snickered, and Harry’s phone rang.  
   
Harry frowned and dug the thing out of his pocket, checking the number as he went. It wasn’t one he recognized.

“Hello?”

Harry’s eyes went crossed, and everyone’s eyebrows rose at the shrieking female voice they could hear coming out of the phone’s earpiece. Harry held the phone away from his ear while the girl continued ranting, and pressed the button to disconnect the call. 

“Aren’t you going to see what it was she wanted?” Adeline asked carefully. 

“I’d recognize that banshee shriek anywhere. That was Hermione. She and her parents probably just got home, and so she’s just discovered that they’re not living in my house anymore. She seemed to think that I changed my mind about the whole eviction thing once she was found to have wrackspurts. I guess she knows better now. I see no reason to listen to her shrieking—in spite of how she acts, she is not my mother, my aunt, my big sister or my girlfriend, and so, she has no right to be shrieking at me about anything, or telling me what to do.” 

 “Speaking of girlfriends, Harry my boy…how goes things with your harem?”

“Harem? What are you talking about?”

“Your godfather has been regaling us with tales of your prowess with women.” Remus explained, his voice dry.

“I don’t know what you’re on about.” Harry rolled his eyes. His phone rang again. He eyed it warily for a moment and then answered after checking the number.

“Oh, hey Daphne. Yeah, I just heard about it myself. Uh huh, uh huh, seriously? Well, what about Vince or Greg? Ah, don’t pout. I’ll save you a dance or three. Yeah, I’ll be there. Uh huh, I’ll see you then.” 

“Anyway, like I was saying…” the phone rang again. “Excuse me a moment.” 

“Oh, hi Hannah…. Oh yeah that, I think it was called a mumbling mimbleonia or something like that.”

“I think you mean a Mimbulus Mimbeltonia” Barty interjected.

“Sorry, apparently it’s a Mimbulus Mimbeltonia. No, I don’t know what it looks like.”

“It’s cactus-like, though it has boils rather than spines. They release stinksap.” 

“Did you get all that? Is that what it looks like? You’ve probably got the right thing then. It’s Neville, if he’s been talking about the thing, he probably knows what it looks like already, which means he’s not going to look at you like you’re an alien if you give it to him. Yes, I’m sure. Yeah, I’ll be there, I expect you to save me a dance. Alright, see you later. She is? Why isn’t she with her family? Oh. The bathroom? Seriously? Whatever…yeah? Huh, weird. They don’t have stuff like that in the men’s room. Sure, put her on. Hey Susan. Yeah, I’ll be there. Wow, I’m popular tonight. Yeah, just before you two did. Daphne… Sure I will. Uh huh. Alright, see you then. Tell Hannah goodnight. Okay, bye.”  
He turned off the phone with a decisive movement and stored it back in his pocket, then continued on as though there’d been no interruption.

“Like I was saying, I don’t know what you’re on about. Last I checked there was no harem. Seriously man, you need to stop making up stuff.” He stretched and yawned, then rose from his chair. “I think I’ll unpack and then turn in. It’s a long train ride to get back here, and I’m knackered. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight everyone.”  
 

 

Harry woke bright and early the next morning, went through his usual morning exercise, and took a long, hot bath. He rather missed the sauna, but the giant bathtub in his personal bathroom at Grimmauld Place was a pretty good replacement, if he did say so himself. 

After dressing, he checked the time and saw it was still early—it was doubtful even early riser Remus was up yet. 

His computer was on his desk, so he sat down and checked his e-mail. There was one from Dudley. Apparently he’d tried calling him the previous night to yell at him for upsetting Hermione, who had called him after Harry hung up on her, and spent an hour crying and telling him how very, very awful Harry was. Harry wrote back and explained all the ways in which Hermione was a big, fat liar and what, exactly had happened that had gotten her upset. He made a special point to mention the wrackspurts, though he called them ‘brain fungus’ –both in deference to Dudley’s status as a muggle, and because it just sounded ickier that way. Dudley, having grown up in Aunt Petunia’s freakishly clean house, the same as Harry had, would be quite grossed-out by the idea Hermione had fungus growing on her brain. One way or another, the girl was going to learn that the gloves were off—he was not going to put up with her trash-talking him to anyone who would listen, he wasn’t going to put up with her tantrums, and he wasn’t going to stand for her trying to control him. 

There were a few more e-mails, all from Megan Jones, a half-blood Hufflepuff witch in his year. She was part of the ‘cunning artificers workshoppe’—the new name for what used to be project corner—and had a computer. Apparently she and some of their friends had been working on a project while on the train, and wanted to double check some calculations they had done. Megan’s computer was a standard muggle one; she didn’t have an arithimancy calculator or a rune simulator on hers. He spent twenty minutes or so running the stuff through and sent back an e-mail with the results.  
   
Hedwig was asleep in the corner, but he could almost feel her reproachful feelings—he’d have to write some letters and send them out; the poor thing really didn’t get enough to do, what with him sending e-mails and talking to people by phone most of the time. He still used her to send a letter home every other week, just so she could continue to feel useful, and he sent the occasional missive off to Bathilda Bagshot just to say hi, but that was pretty much the extent of his letter writing. He’d have to make a point to keep Hedwig’s pride as a mail owl in mind from now on. 

In fact…he had a present he had made for Cho for Christmas, but he’d held on to it, as he wasn’t sure what was going on with them. They had seemingly been getting on well, and then he’d heard she was off gallivanting around with Cedric, and her best friend, Marrietta, was still pissy with him because Ginny hexed her. Why she was pissed at him when it was Ginny who did it was something he still didn’t quite understand. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was Marietta who was pushing Cho towards Cedric—after all, Ginny didn’t care if Cho was dating Cedric, just Harry. He dug out the small box, gaily wrapped in red paper, and debated whether to send it or not. He waited too long to decide, as Hedwig spotted the package and immediately perked up, puffing out her chest as though to assure him she was the owl for the job. 

“No need to brag, love, I know how dependable you are. Here, take this to Cho…no need to wait for a reply.” 

Hedwig snatched the package by the loops attached to the top and flew off, an owl with a mission. He really had been neglecting her lately if she was that excited to take a package off.  
   
It was still rather early, so he looked around for something else to do. His eyes fell on his parents trunk, which reminded him of some things he’d hoped to get done over the holiday. With that thought in mind, he set off for the library. He figured it was about time he took a look at his family grimoire. He was hopeful there would be something in there about the wards on his house—how they were set up, what all was on there, how to activate them, add and remove people from them, etc. 

Upon entering the library, he went directly to the main index and found the grimoire entry then dabbed a bit of his blood in the spot to reveal the drawer it was hidden in. Once he’d gotten it out, he took it to the table and carefully laid it down. The thing was old—really old, with a wooden cover, blackened metal latches and uneven vellum pages. The first page had a list of terms in small, neat writing, which in some cases repeated several times, and in other cases seemed to be listed only once. He looked for anything on wards and found several entries scattered throughout the list. Following his instincts, he tapped the first with his wand and sat back with a satisfied smile as the pages began to rapidly turn themselves, before finally settling down open at a page about a third of the way through. It was more or less what he’d been looking for, except for one problem—the drawing sketched in the corner of one of the pages was not of a keep, but of a thatched-roof cottage with a garden and outbuildings. He went back to the list and found a second entry. He smiled in relief when he saw the familiar image of the keep sketched in the corner. He went and grabbed one of his notebooks and a pen to take notes—he had no intention of the grimoire leaving the room, nor did he want anyone else to even know it existed.  
   
Much to his relief, it seemed he’d be able to do as he wished, namely lock down the keep to anyone but himself, with little trouble. There was a procedure to reset the wards to keep out all comers, an emergency procedure in case of betrayal from within, or to pass over guardianship to a new master of the keep. Unless the wards and the wardstones had been seriously compromised, he should in essence be able to just engage all the possible wards, pump them up to maximum, and lock down the keep altogether. Unless he added someone to the wards, the only person who should be able to get access would be himself. 

He took careful notes and then checked the other entries to see if there was anything else he needed to know in the other ward entries, then went back to see what else was in the list that might be pertinent to what he was doing. He found some entries on internal security on the keep, hidden rooms within it, as well as a hidden escape passage. There were also several entries on spells to detect magical surveillance and tampering in the keep and on the grounds. He took notes on those as well and then put away the grimoire in its hiding place. 

He checked the time again, and figured he still had about an hour until breakfast. After debating with himself for a bit, he decided to just go get the wards taken care of—the house was currently empty. He wanted to make damned sure it stayed that way, and that it didn’t end up compromised or tragically destroyed before he could protect it. He slipped out of the house to summon the Knight bus.  
   
 

Walking through the gates, Harry stopped for a moment to just look around. While it was true he’d been here once before, they’d been in a bit of a hurry, and the Grangers had been living there at the time. He hadn’t wanted to intrude too obviously or be too nosy while it was technically their residence at the time. With them gone, he finally would have the chance to really look around. 

The gate didn’t slide open at his approach as it had the last time, which was worrisome. A hand pressed to it also didn’t activate whatever mechanism controlled it, so he had to slide the gate open manually—a pain, but not a major one; it still slid apart silently when he pushed. 

He stepped onto the grounds and looked around, then spotted a small stone building just to the left of the gate that he didn’t recall having noticed before. It was built into the wall the edged the grounds. Inside was a large stone fireplace, but nothing else. It must be the ‘secure floo’ access he’d seen mentioned in the grimoire—a wise precaution, in Harry’s opinion; with the floo away from the house, no one could use it to listen in to your conversations, or just pop into your house unexpectedly. The building looked like it hadn’t been used in some time, to judge by the dust and debris gathered in the corners. He had no need of it at the moment, so he just pressed his wand to the wall to activate the ward check on the building. They were almost non-existent. 

Feeling far more concerned now, he did a quick walk through of the grounds, checked the wards on the outer wall and gate and found them near to faltering as well. He hurried inside the house and made a quick tour of all the rooms, checking the wards as he went and found them about to falter as well, though they were a bit stronger than those on the outer edges of the property. 

“It seems I got here just in time; no wonder I felt such a sense of urgency this morning. Had I waited much longer, there might not have been any wards left to reset!” 

He hurried down into the lower level of the keep—where the kitchen, potions lab, pantry and elf quarters should be and looked for the structural tells that would signal that he was at the center. The four sections of the lowest level were separated by walls and a long corridor, and the stonework in the floor made a pattern he’d been told to look for. He pressed his wand against the center of the pattern and waited a moment for something to happen.  
 

The stonework began to warp and twist until a hole about two feet across opened at his feet, and a stone column rose out of the depths. It was inscribed across its length with runes and symbols, though it was rather simple in comparison to the wards layered across Hogwarts. When the ward stone was fully exposed he dug out his notebook and carefully followed the instructions to reset the wards to accept only himself for the moment, and bring everything up to full strength to put the keep on lockdown. There were thirteen symbols he had to tap with his wand first, each in the center of an array of runes detailing what the particular ward was for and where it was supposed to anchor itself. There were three such symbols with accompanying runic arrays on each side, and the last on the top. They had to be activated in a particular order, or the stone would blow up in your face and take out the keep and everyone in it---his ancestors, it seemed, were the paranoid sort who wanted to make sure their home never fell into unfriendly hands, and took steps to take out all their enemies should that ever happen. Harry approved. 

He did a quick ‘point me’ to find north, and then moved to the north face to begin. He tapped his wand against the center symbol on the north face and it began to glow, as though some internal fire within the stone could be glimpsed peeking out from the depths. The glow spread to the surrounding runes with lit up one after another, until the whole array was glowing. Once the last rune lit up he moved to the south face to tap the bottom rune there. It took about ten minutes for him to go through the whole sequence. When he was done, the whole stone was lit up like a Christmas tree, except for the last symbol at the top. Harry dug out his pocket knife and nicked his palm enough to draw blood and squeezed a bit to gather a small glob of it, then smeared it across the final symbol, before tapping it with his wand. The whole structure pulsed and a rainbow of light swirled from top to bottom as the stone began to sink back into the building’s foundations.  
 

It was odd in the extreme—Harry realized he was aware of the keep in a way he hadn’t been before. He knew the grounds and buildings were empty, that the floo was disconnected—the floo in the parlor that is, which according to the grimoire, shouldn’t have even been there. The keep’s fireplaces were meant for warmth, not floo access. He didn’t know if his parents or grandparents had added an internal floo connection, and simply hadn’t thought to note it in the grimoire, or if Hermione had it added while she was living here—either way, it was a problem as there wasn’t supposed to be such a hole in the security. 

More worrisome than the floo connection was the fact that the wards were about to fall when he arrived. He couldn’t understand it—they’d been active last Christmas when he and Sirius had come to visit the place, and then now, a year later, they’d been all but gone. They’d stood up all the time since his parents had left the house a decade ago—and yet in just a year’s time they were nearly gone? That didn’t make any sense. He wondered if Hermione had been aware of the deterioration of the wards and had been scheming to steal the house out from under him, which is why she was so very, very pissed that they’d been kicked out. He just didn’t know, and that bothered him. 

A twinge on the wards alerted him to the arrival of a trio of people outside the gates, and then suddenly there was pressure against it, as though someone were trying to batter it down. He was new to holding the wards, but he was pretty sure someone was attacking.  
 

Harry hurried outside and to the front gates, where he gaped at the trio of Weasleys--they had the red hair and freckles at least, who were standing just beyond the gate, wands out, trying to break down his wards. He scowled angrily and marched out to meet them. The gate slid open at his approach, though the trio evidently thought it was opening for them as they lowered their wands and tried to saunter through, only to be repelled. 

“Might I ask just what the hell you three think you’re doing breaking into my house?” Harry barked angrily as he reached their location.

“Oi, who do you think you are, you little brat, talking to us like that?”

“I’m Harry Potter and this is my house. Who the hell are you?” 

The middle Weasley held up a hand to halt the others' reply. 

“There must be some mistake here, Harry my boy. We got an alert that the wards had fallen. We’re here to remove any magical items before muggles get their hands on them.”

Harry glared at the man until his cheery demeanor faltered. 

“For your information, gentlemen, I have just reset the wards to put the house on lockdown, since the tenants who were here until just a short time ago are no longer in residence. The house is empty. Maybe you should double-check your information before you just go around breaking and entering.” 

“Here now, you can’t talk to us like that.”

“When you’ve all just admitted you were here to break in and rob me blind, I think I can bloody well talk to you however I like.” 

“Harry my boy, I’d watch my tone if I were you. You’re not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“First of all, Mr. Weasley, I am not in any way your boy, nor are we well enough acquainted for you to go around addressing me so familiarly. Secondly, I was not doing underage magic, I was interacting with a magical object, namely my house, which is perfectly allowable under the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Now, if you have no further business here, I would like you gentlemen off my property. If you have any further business, you can take it up with my guardian, Sirius Black.” 

“Now see here, you little brat! Where do you get off talking to us like that?” 

“And you are?”

“Carrackatus Weasley.” The man growled.

Harry pulled a small notebook out of his pouch which had a pen attached at the top, which he withdrew before flipping open the pad to write something down. 

“I have to say I must concur with my son, Harry.” The middle Weasley said stiffly. “I am not of a mind to stand here while a child your age speaks to me so disrespectfully."

“That’s Mr. Potter to you.” Harry quipped in reply. “And you are?” he then asked.

“Cletus Weasley and these are my sons, Carackatus and Rutger. Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know who was trying to break into my house so I can give the names to my lawyers for when they lodge a complaint with the Ministry.” 

“WHAT? How dare you, you little punk” Rutger growled. He lunged forward as though to grab Harry—to drag him off or throttle him, Harry didn’t get to find out, as Sirius, Barty and Remus suddenly appeared behind them.

“Harry? What’s going on here?”

“Breaking and entering, harassment and what was about to be a physical assault by the look of it.” Harry said calmly. “Also verbal harassment. I believe I’ve been called a brat, a punk, and a disrespectful child in the last three minutes or so, for daring to complain about these guys trying to break into my house and rob me—not that they would actually have gotten anything, as the house is currently empty, but really, it’s the principle of the matter. If they had simply agreed that there was some sort of a mistake and left like I asked them to, there would have been no problem, but they tried to intimidate me, told me I was guilty of underage magic, called me names and then that guy tried to throttle me.” He concluded, indicating Rutger. 

Sirius, Remus and Barty crossed their arms and gave the three a hard look.

“Oddment? Why don’t you take Harry home. Tell Winky we’ll be along shortly and she can start breakfast then.” 

Oddment appeared next to Harry, grabbed his wrist and the two of them disappeared.

Once Harry and the elf were gone, Sirius smiled at the three, though it wasn’t a friendly smile in the least.

“Now, why don’t we all have a little talk about just what the hell you three thought you were doing.”  
   
 

“Thanks for the ride, Oddment.” Harry sighed. He was annoyed at being removed from the scene, but at the same time realized it was probably for the best that Sirius handle things from there—the three Weasleys seemed unable to countenance someone Harry’s age having the guts to talk back to them. There was however, something he could still do. He hurried upstairs to his room to find some parchment, and to see if Hedwig had returned yet. She had, she was snoozing on her perch when he went into his room. He vaguely remembered Cho mentioning that she lived just outside London, so he guessed it hadn’t been a long trip for Hedwig to make.

He sat down at his desk and gathered three pieces of parchment. He stacked the three pieces together and hit the pile with a spell, and then began writing. It was a short letter—he simply laid out in very bald terms the events of that morning and expressed his unhappiness with how he’d been treated. After checking it over for spelling mistakes he separated the three pieces of parchment, revealing that he now had three identical letters—a handy little spell Pansy Parkinson had taught him that she’d learned from her mother. Her mother normally used it to write out invitations so she only had to do it once. He addressed the first letter to Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Department, and then put a cc: Amelia Bones, Tiberius Ogden at the bottom. He figured sending the letter to the Head of Law Enforcement, the Aurors and the new Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and letting them all know that they’d all gotten the letter, would insure that something was done to prevent incidents like that happening again in the future. 

He considered the three letters for a moment, and then decided a bit of showmanship wouldn’t go amiss to insure they realized it was a formal complaint. A bit of digging around found him some lengths of ribbon—they were the wrong color but that was easily fixed—and a red candle. He rolled up the letters and addressed them on the outside, and then bound each small scroll up in a short length of ribbon, which he hit with a charm to make red and blue—the colors of house Potter, and then dribbled some wax on each and impressed it with his family ring. Hedwig, bless her, flew to his shoulder just as he finished with the last one.

“Ready for another mission, girl?”

“Preck!” Hedwig affirmed, puffing her chest out.

“Good girl. Take these to Amelia Bones, Tiberius Ogden and Rufus Scrimgeour, in whatever order is most convenient for you. No need to wait for any replies. He affixed the scrolls to her feet and carried her to the window so she could take off. As he watched her wing her way into the distance he smiled grimly and headed back downstairs to await the others’ arrival. Regardless of how things went between the Weasleys and Sirius, they were going to learn not to fuck with Harry Potter. He was getting sick and tired of people talking down to him, calling him names and trying to push him around. Somehow or other they were going to learn that he wasn’t going to take it, even if he had to turn the whole of the magical world on its collective ear to get the point across.  
   
   
Sirius, Barty and Remus had returned by the time he got back downstairs.

“Good morning Harry…mind telling us what the hell you were doing all the way out in Godric’s Hallow this morning?”

“Resetting the wards on my house to go into lockdown. I felt a certain sense of urgency about the whole thing this morning. It’s a good thing I got there when I did as the wards were just about gone when I arrived. In fact, I find it quite interesting that those three showed up when they did and said they’d gotten word the wards had fallen and were there to clean the place out. If I hadn’t of gotten there before them and reset everything, they would have just waltzed right in, and I probably wouldn’t have my house anymore.” Harry said bitterly. “In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some sort of conspiracy afoot—Hermione was in a shrieking fury last night, far more than seemed warranted given what all happened. After all, what’s it to her that her parents moved? It’s not like she’s going to be there most of the time, just winter hols and summer. I have to wonder if she was planning to use the failure of the wards to try to steal the house out from under me, and if so, were those Weasleys a party to this deception? Hopefully the Ministry will get this business straightened out.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, Harry.”

“I wrote Madame Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour and Chief Warlock Ogden to tell them what happened.” 

Remus looked genteely appalled, Sirius looked surprised, and Barty threw back his head and laughed delightedly.

“In that case, I’m sure someone will look into it” Sirius agreed. “though I still wouldn’t hold your breath about anything being done.”

“If it comes to that, then I get the papers involved and get people questioning how many other times something like this has happened. I told them the wards were reset and that they were trespassing. Those Weasleys acted like nothing I had to say held any weight with them, and that since they had decided they were busting in and cleaning the place out, that’s exactly what was going to happen—and if I didn’t like it, that was too damned bad. I’m pretty sure that Rutger guy was getting ready to simply haul me off somewhere to get me out of the way, and I have little doubt the other two would have just looked the other way while he did so and then continued with what they were doing. That’s the impression I got anyway.”

“You say the name with such disdain.” Remus noted in surprise. “Aren’t you friends with Arthur’s children?”

“I’m friendly with Ron—he is my roommate after all. I can’t say that I know Percy or the twins at all well, I’ve never met the eldest two, and Ginny is quickly earning herself a place on my enemies list. Arthur Weasley was harboring Pettigrew, ruined Barty and Jade’s” Barty glowered at him “engagement party, was either a dupe or a willing participant in the whole ‘muggle protection act’ debacle and now his brothers or cousins or whatever they were just tried to figuratively kick in my door and rob me. I have to say that whole family is starting to earn itself a place on the ‘people to avoid’ list if nothing else.” 

“Let’s have breakfast. We can worry about everything else later.”  
 

The three men and boy went into the dining room and seated themselves. Plates laden with an array of breakfast foods appeared before them, along with a pot of tea and a pitcher of juice.

Harry inhaled and smiled. “Jasmine tea, yum.” 

“You’re a strange kid, you know that?”

“I prefer cultured, myself.” 

“You just keep telling yourself that.” 

Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

“I want to go see the Riddle estate after breakfast.” He announced after eating a bit.

“I think you’ve had more than your share of adventures already today. How about we work on the diadem instead? I was planning to work on it myself while you were at school, but you packed it away somewhere and the house elves refused to retrieve it.”

“I had a feeling I really needed to be there while it was worked on…and I also didn’t want to return and find you’d sold it to a museum or something.” 

Remus sighed and shook his head.

“You can’t keep it, Harry, it doesn’t belong to you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Harry, a castle giving it to you, if that’s even what happened, wouldn’t hold up in court.”

“No, it’s actually mine. It turns out I’m also Ravenclaw’s heir by virtue of being Slytherin’s. According to the Grey Lady the Ravenclaw line intermarried with the Gryffindor and Slytherin lines. Sir Nick was the last known Gryffindor heir—although he told me he actually had a child, though the kid’s mother was married to someone else. He thinks my mother might have been his descendant, though he never told her.” 

“What? How could that be?”

“He said the line went muggle and he lost track of them. He said my mother had very distinct coloring—the same as he had when he was alive: a particular shade of red hair and emerald green eyes.”

“Why didn’t he tell her he suspected this?”

“Because she was desperate for wizarding relations, and he had no way of knowing if she was really his descendant or it was just a coincidence. He figures I already have wizarding relations that are known to me and a place in the world, so it wasn’t as big a deal to tell me his suspicions. Either way, I’m Ravenclaw’s heir, and the Grey Lady agrees the diadem is mine now.”

“That’s very nice, but what the hell would the Grey Lady know about it?”

“She was Ravenclaw’s daughter Helena. She told Tom Riddle where she hid the diadem before she died and he went and retrieved it—it actually was hidden in a tree in Albania, just so you know. I think it might be the anchor for the DADA curse, actually. Did any of you know Rowena Ravenclaw was a queen? Apparently that’s what a diadem signified in those days. Hogwarts is in the center of what used to be Ravenclaw’s king…well, queendom, I guess it would actually be. Salazar Slytherin was both her tutor and her chief advisor. I don’t know what his official title was, but he was a big deal of some sort. Gryffindor was the head of the armed forces and in charge of training the knights. Hufflepuff was the chatelaine or something—she was the head of the household staff, oversaw the running of the castle, the food stores, and the infirmary. That’s why they divided up the school the way they did. Slytherin was training the future courtiers, Ravenclaw the scholars, Gryffindor the warriors and Hufflepuff everyone else, which included quite a few folks from different walks of life. Historically, her house was always the biggest, because the peasants, farmers, merchants and shopkeepers outnumbered everyone else by a fair margin and frankly the castle wouldn’t have survived without all of them. The current trend of teaching all the students together and giving everyone the same curriculum didn’t used to be the case. Apparently each house operated practically as its own school and they learned different things depending on their focus. When the old medieval divisions of society stopped being relevant, they overhauled the curriculum to become what it is now.”  
   
The three men took a bit of time to digest Harry’s words. 

“If you’re correct and the diadem is anchoring the DADA curse, don’t you agree that should be our first priority?”

“No, we’ve got time to mess with it. I really want to go to the Riddle place.”

“I still say you’ve had enough adventures for one day. No more going out for you.”

“I am not going to stay trapped inside looking at stupid pictures of cats for hours and hours and hours, just because some stupid wizards make a point of bothering me when I try to go out.” Harry grumbled.

“Pictures of cats? What are you talking about?” Barty wondered. 

Harry finished his breakfast and pushed his plate away. He fixed himself a cup of tea.

“Harry?” Sirius prodded.

“When I was real little my aunt used to take me and Dudley with her to London when she went there to go shopping. Every time she did, a wizard or three would pop out at us, in robes no less, and start bowing to me, or exclaiming how honored they were to meet me, or what have you. My aunt prides herself on being perfectly normal, thank you very much. Having an oddly dressed person approach and make a scene like that, draw eyes and get people pointing and whispering—it’s the stuff of nightmares to her. Basically, it happened every time she had me with her, so she stopped taking me anywhere. I started getting left with Mrs. Figg, who would show me photo albums of her eighty million cats for hours and hours. I can’t even count the number of afternoons I spent there. Her house always smelled of cabbage for some reason. Now, I’m living in here, and every time I go out, stupid wizards keep bothering me—well, you know what? Let them. I refuse to be a recluse. I can do that when I’m old and toothless.”

“They do have charms to fix that, you know.”

“It’s just an expression. The point is, I refuse to allow idiots to make me a prisoner.”

“Fine, but you’re not going alone, and in the future, I expect you to wait until a civilized hour before venturing out. I had hoped to sleep in today.” 

“What’s the big deal, I knew Oddment had followed me. Anyway, if I hadn’t of ventured out so early, I probably wouldn’t have a house right now.” Harry pointed out.  
 

They took the Knight Bus to Little Hangleton—none of the men had ever been there before, and so had no visualization to apparate to. Twenty minutes, sixteen towns, and forty-three streets later they arrived on the outskirts of the small town, all of them green in the face and weak in the knees.

“Never, never again.” Remus said faintly as he mopped his brow. “Thank Merlin we’ll be able to apparate home.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure.” Sirius muttered between dry heaves. “Whoever designed that bus should be hanged; you shouldn’t get seasick on land, it’s just not right.”  
After taking a few minutes to recover their equilibrium they took a look around. 

Little Hangleton was a fairly typical small town: there was a church, a farmer’s market, a butcher, a bakery, two pubs, a hardware store, and a few other assorted shops. In the distance could be seen a few farms, out past the town proper. A main road circled the town to one side, before disappearing behind a small forest and then winding away between the mountains that sheltered the town from one side. On the outskirts of the town, behind the church was a cemetery—and old one, by the look of it, full of mausoleums, and statues of angels amidst a scattering of more typical gravestones. Past the graveyard was a hill overlooking the town, and atop it sat a brooding manor house, covered in ivy. It was a picturesque area—rolling, snow-covered mountains, stone cottages, bare, winter forest. 

“That it?” Barty wondered.

“Yeah, it should be. Should we head up there?”

“Might as well. It’s a nice house…or will be if you clean it up some.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely seen better days.” 

They started walking, heading for the road that wound up the hill towards the house at the top. There was a gate across the road at the base of the hill, and a low, stone wall that ran alongside the road they were walking upon. 

“That wall goes on for quite a distance…don’t tell me that’s all part of the property?” 

“I think it is. The report on it said it was roughly 2000 acres.”

Remus whistled. “That’s quite a bit of real estate.” 

When they finally came abreast of the gate, Harry stopped for a moment to stare.

“It’s the same as the gate on my house. That’s the Peverell mark. I guess they all really were cousins of mine."

The gate didn’t open at their approach, but neither was it locked. It was a simple matter to push it open and begin the long trek up the road to the house.  
 

They had only crossed half the distance to the house when they spotted an elderly man striding across the grounds from a small cottage located there, and moving to intercept them. They angled their approach to meet him halfway.  
As the man drew closer they could see he looked to be about seventy or eighty, and he had a limp. His face was weathered—obviously someone accustomed to spending long hours outdoors. His gaze flicked over all of them suspiciously, lingering on Harry for a bit, before he turned to Sirius, guessing him to be the leader of the strange expedition.

“What brings you here friend?”'

“My godson here is the owner of this place and was of a mind to see it. You are?”

The man’s eyes widened briefly and he glanced at Harry a second time.

“You related to the folks what used to live here?” he asked.

“The Riddles? Yes, they were apparently distant cousins of mine.” 

“And you own this place?”

“That’s what the bank and my lawyers tell me. I was orphaned as a baby, so I really only just learned all this. You’re the caretaker?”

The man grunted, but then apparently decided to take them at their word. “Yeah, Frank Bryce.” 

“Pleasure to meet you. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but are you looking to retire?”

Frank blinked and then snorted in amusement. “I’m as tough as old boots, sonny, don’t worry yourself none about me. Retire…well, while I can admit a part of me thinks it’d be nice, the truth is I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Suit yourself. Care to give us the tour?”

“If ye like. Lemme make sure I’ve got the keys…and I do. Sure. You’ll be wanting to see the house, I take it? I should warn you, it’s been unoccupied for a very long time now, and well, frankly it shows. I do what I can, but the place just sitting there like it does… It’s kind of dank in there. I figure it can be fixed, but it’ll take some doing. I don’t know whether you’ll ever get the smell outa there.”  
 

Frank led them up to the house and flipped through an old-fashioned key ring that he had hanging from his belt and unlocked the front door, which he held open for them. The four wizards wrinkled their noses upon stepping inside, and had to fight down the urge to cast a bubblehead charm on themselves. The place did indeed smell dank and mildewed. There was furniture inside, covered in musty sheets, layered in dust and grime. Harry checked the nearest light switch, but the power was turned off. He moved to the nearest window and pulled back the curtains. The top half of the window was boarded over, and the bottom covered in a layer of grime—it let in some light, but not as much as he’d hoped. Remus and Barty moved to the other windows and pulled back the curtains on them as well. All Harry could think was that it must have been quite a showplace back in its day, as it was still beautiful under the grime and neglect. Harry led the way through the house, inspecting damage, checking some of the furniture to see if it was salvageable. It really seemed a shame to just let the place continue to rot away like it was. There was a lot that would need to be cleaned up, quite a few windows needed replacing, and there was some water damage and crumbled stonework in places, but all in all it was nowhere near as bad as it could have been.

“Do you have any particular plans for this place?” Barty asked curiously.

“Not at the moment, why? You want to live here?”

“Well, Dora and I are getting married soon…we were thinking we’d be best off with our own place somewhere. I have my parent's house, but I’ll be honest—I was rather dreading going back there. Maybe someday, but it’s just too soon right now. I’d probably need to have it remodeled even then before I could stand living there again. It’s pretty here, there’s a little town right nearby…”

“You don’t have to sell me on the idea. If you really want to live here, you and Dora are more than welcome. I’ll be at school most of the year in any case. It is a nice place, isn’t it? Or will be once it’s cleaned up and repaired. There’s lots of space if you want to throw any big parties. We’d have to get right on cleaning up if you want it ready before your honeymoon is over though.” 

“We could do that, and we could actually easily recruit help—Dora will want to be involved if she’s going to live here, and I’m sure her parents will come along as well to help out.”

“Okay then, you’ve got a deal.” 

“Cheers.” Barty quipped happily. He was already envisioning what the place would look like when they were done. With those thoughts in mind he pulled out his phone and called Dora to swing the idea by her. Giving Barty his privacy, the rest of them headed outside to look at the outbuildings. There was a stable and a barn.

“They used to have horses, and I’ve been told they used to have cows and a few goats before my time. They used that place there for cheese, butter, and what have you, that there is a mill; it hasn’t been used in near a century most like. There’s a pond back there, you can’t see it because of the hill there, but you can see the stream that feeds it there.” Frank pointed into the distance where they could see a thin, winding ribbon of water.  
“It disappears underground over there, comes up again as the pond. It’s not terribly big, though it’s big enough they used to have a couple of small rowboats they’d take out on it now and again.” 

“Is there anything else of interest on the grounds?”

“The rest is just rolling hills, trees, a few boulders. There’s a small waterhole over that way, not far from the shack.” 

“The shack?” Remus asked curiously.

“Aye. Was a family o’ weirdos, used to live there a long while ago. Did I hear a’right that the young fellow back there might be living here?”

“Yes, that’s the plan, of course his wife will probably have final say—she hasn’t seen the place yet.”

“Married, is he?”

“Will be on the 29th.”

“Well, that would be something, having folks living here again. The folks in town mostly avoid the place. A lot of folks hereabouts swear the place is haunted. I don’t know if you know the history of this place…”

“The family was murdered, yes we know.” 

“Would you like to go on vacation or anything while we’re fixing up the place?” 

Frank Bryce blinked and looked at Harry curiously. “Go on vacation?” he repeated.

“I just thought you might want to avoid the workmen and what have you. It also occurred to me that, if you’ve been looking after this place all this time you probably haven’t had one in a while. Is there any place in particular you want to go?” 

Frank rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Harry dubiously. “Just like that? Send me off on a vacation of my choice? What’s the catch?”

“Why would there be a catch? It’s nearly Christmas, after all.” 

“It might be nice to be someplace warm for a bit. My old bones don’t appreciate the cold so much these days.”

“So…Spain? Southern France? Italy? Greece? Africa?” 

Frank snorted a bit and smiled nostalgically. “I knew a saucy little Italian bird in my youth. Her name was Carlotta. She was a wee bit of a thing, all curves, thick black hair, and red lips. Ah, she was a beauty that one.”

“Do you know what part of Italy she was from?”

“Not a clue.”

“Want to go to Tuscany? I’ve heard it’s very pretty there.” 

Frank snorted again, this time in amusement. “Sure, why not. My passport should still be good.” 

“Alright then, I’ll see to the arrangements. Will you be taking anyone with you?”

Frank sighed and shook his head. “It’s just me. Lifelong bachelor and all.” 

“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky in Tuscany. I’ve heard Italian women are hot-blooded.” 

“Heh. That’d be something wouldn’t it, at my age.” 

“So, which way did you say the shack was?”

“It’s over that way, buried in the trees down that way. Do you need me to…”

“No need. I’m sure we’ll be able to find it. That way you said?” Frank nodded. “Oh, could you let Barty know where we’ve gone?”

“Sure thing, lad.”  
 

 

Sirius, Remus and Harry set off across the grounds in the direction Frank had indicated. Harry had a feeling they would have had a much harder time finding the place if it hadn’t of been winter. They were able to spot the shack hidden in the midst of a dense thicket of hedges at the center of the forest because the hedges were winter bare and bent in places from the weight of the snow on them. 

“Is that a snake?” Remus asked as they drew closer. “Nailed to the door? What on earth?”

Harry held up a hand to halt their approach.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure…there’s something in that house. One of you check the door for traps or defenses, would you?” 

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look and pulled their wands without comment.

“I’m not getting anything. There don’t seem to be wards of any sort.”

“No traps either. If I didn’t know magical folks used to live here, I wouldn’t have believed any ever had.”

“It has been empty for a long time. It’s clean? You’re sure?”

“As far as we can tell.”

Harry moved towards the door, every sense on alert. He could feel something malevolent on the other side of the door. 

“Harry, maybe you should let one of us go first…did you hear something?”

“Yeah…it sounds like there’s an animal in there.”

Harry pushed open the door and hurried inside the shack—he could feel the malevolence fleeing at high speed, and hear something scrabbling inside. There was also a strange prickling itch on his forehead. He wanted to get a look at whatever it was—it was no ordinary animal, he knew that much. 

“Harry, that was reckless.” Remus scolded as he and Sirius hurried in behind him, wands out and at the ready.

“I could feel it fleeing. I wanted to get a look at it. There was something evil in here.”

“Certainly a fitting place for something evil to lurk. Look at this place.” Sirius said with some distaste.  
   
The shack had certainly seen better days, though it was doubtful it was a welcoming place even when it was new. There was one large room, and a doorway that led into a second room. If there was a second storey, they couldn’t see any stairs from where they were standing. A thick layer of grime, leaves and animal bones littered the floor, along with several dead animals—squirrels, rats, and rabbits—had they come here in the summer, they were sure the smell would have been ghastly. There was a rotting wooden table, roughly made and unadorned, and a single chair that had fallen to pieces. Ill fitting shutters hung at the windows and did nothing to keep out the weather. In the corner was a kitchen area, fallen to ruin, and a pile of moldering cauldrons—more rust than iron, in a heap nearby. It was the most depressing, unwelcoming excuse for a home any of them had ever seen. 

“I’m almost afraid to see what the rest of the place looks like.”

“Let’s check it out. We don’t know if that animal is still around.”

“Don’t touch anything.” Sirius warned as he and Remus crept towards the doorway to examine the rest of the house. 

Harry wandered around the room, vanishing dead animals and other refuse, and peeked in the corners. 

“A rudimentary bathroom—pretty much a hole in the ground and a rotted-out washtub—and the rotted remains of a couple of mattresses and a chest filled with mostly rotted clothing. That’s all there is. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of the animal we heard…it probably escaped out the hole in the wall back here.”

“What a dump. Let’s get back to the house and regroup with Barty.”

They set off back across the grounds, heading for the house on the hill. Harry glanced back once before the shack was out of sight; he was certain he could still feel eyes on his back as they left. He knew he needed to come back here again—he wondered, briefly, if anything would have happened differently had he come alone. He supposed it didn’t matter too much—he’d have another chance to solve the mystery. Chances were they’d be spending quite a bit of time here over the holiday helping Barty and Dora get the house fit for occupation.  
   
 

“Bye, Frank! Enjoy your trip! Take lots of pictures!”

Frank Bryce waved from the back of the airport shuttle as it travelled down the hill. He still looked vaguely bemused—a look he hadn’t lost since all of them had shown up the first time. They waited until the car was out of sight, and then trooped back inside, while Barty casually walked the perimeter of the yard and cast a discreet muggle-repelling charm—after all, it would do them no good to have gotten rid of the caretaker, only to have random muggles from the town wandering by and watching them do magic. 

“Finally! I’ve been itching to get started on this place!”

“You could have mopped and scrubbed by hand.” Harry pointed out.

“Ha, ha, a real comedian you are.” Dora scoffed before sweeping her wand in a wide arc across the room. “Scourgify!” 

Andromeda and Ted were banishing the furniture out into the yard behind the house, out of sight of the townsfolk. They had boned up on a whole series of charms for furniture, hoping that at least some of the antiques that came with the house could be salvaged. 

Barty returned once the muggle-repelling ward was up and wandered into the dining room, where he began casting cleaning charms as well. They had a lot to get done—the house was filthy, dusty, musty and damp. In places the wood was worm-eaten, in others disintegrated from the damp. The paint was faded and streaked with grime, the chandeliers were laden with dust and cobwebs. The plaster was crumbling in places, and many of the windows needed replacing.

“Alright, we’ve got the upstairs windows all replaced. We should be able to get all these done in no time—we’ve got it down to an art form, watch.” Sirius bragged. 

He tapped the nearest broken window with his wand and it jumped out of the wall, leaving a neat rectangular hole behind it. Remus tapped one of the new windows they’d bought and it hopped into place in the hole. Adeline then tapped the wall, which oozed into place around the new window, securing it in place. 

“Cool!” Harry laughed. With the three of them doing their part, working in tandem as they were, it wasn’t long before every window in the house had been replaced.  
“I guess it’s lucky all the windows were standard sizes…”

“I don’t think they were, actually—luckily, magic means you don’t have to worry about stuff like that. We just bought standard size and made them fit.” 

“Everyone out. I’m doing the floors.” Barty announced. 

Harry wandered into the next room and then lurked around, wanting to watch. Some of the floorboards were spongy and needed replacing. Barty vanished them one after another, and then transfigured bits of new, fresh wooden boards into the proper shape and size to replace them, then fastened them with nails he banished into place. When he was done, he cast another spell to apply and then dry a layer of varnish. Between the floor and the new windows, the room already looked like it belonged to a completely different house, and they were only partway done. Harry wandered upstairs, casting cleaning charms as he went.  
   
They worked steadily until lunch, at which time Winky called them down to the kitchen. 

“Wow, you two did a great job down here. I hardly recognize the place.” 

“Winky is not making master Barty and mistress Dora’s lunch in a dirty kitchen.” Winky huffed, sounding scandalized. 

“Where’d all the kitchen stuff come from?”

“From my old house. It was already packed up, she just had to bring it here.” 

“This place is going to be quite the showplace when we’re done. It looks great already.” Andromeda noted.

“What do we still have to do?” Ted wondered.

“I think the downstairs is mostly done, Winky and Oddment took care of the lower level” Dora ticked off on her fingers.

“I cleaned all the rooms on the second floor—it was mostly just dust, layers of it, but just dust.” Harry spoke up.

“That just leaves the third floor for cleaning. I guess we can get started painting and gussying up the second floor once we’re done eating.” Sirius said happily.

“After that we just have to move in the furniture and decorate.” Dora concluded happily.

“I love magic. Can you imagine how long this would have taken without it?” Harry said cheerfully.

“Yeah. We’d have been lucky to just get all the windows done today.” Ted snorted.

   
Harry briefly lost track of the conversation around him as a rush of memories suddenly assaulted him— _standing in front of himself. The other him slips back into the house while no one is looking, leaving him to sneak off to the shack in the woods. He took the scenic route down, though there wasn’t much to see—everything was winter bare and covered with snow. He approached the shack cautiously, senses on high alert, but there was no sense of the evil presence he’d felt before. He stepped into the house and noted the odd tracks through the dirt on the floor. He stretched out his senses, looking for any feel of the evil thing that had been there before, but there was nothing…nothing except a familiar feeling just on the edges…there. He squatted down in front of one of the dilapidated walls, where there was a small hole. There in the shadows, he could make out a faint glimmer. He found a stick among the refuse on the floor and used it to fish the thing out. It was a ring. It had a band of gold, roughly made and heavy, and in it was set a black stone with a familiar symbol inscribed upon it—it was the Peverell mark. He gathered up the ring and felt out some more, but there was nothing else. He’d done much the same the last time he’d been there, but there had been no ring on the premises, of that he was sure. The evil thing must have had it with it when it fled, and then returned and hidden it there—but why? He gave one last look around and then hurried back to the house, taking the long way around and approaching stealthily from behind the stables so he wouldn’t be seen by anyone inside the house. He left the ring under a rock behind the stables, and dispersed…_  
 

Harry busied himself drinking a glass of juice while trying to assimilate the shadow clone’s memories. He finished up the last of his lunch, thanked Winky, and then excused himself. The adults were all talking and enjoying themselves, and so didn’t pay him much mind. He hurried upstairs and out to the stable, then lifted the stone he remembered. There was the ring, pressed into the frozen ground. He pried it out and cast several detection charms on it. 

“It’s the same spell signatures that are on the diadem, the locket, the diary…and some heirloom magic…really nasty heirloom magic at that.” He mused. He cast a few cleaning charms at the thing and stuck it on his finger, admiring it for a moment. “Well, I didn’t have my flesh withered, or get struck down dead, so apparently it recognizes me as its owner, regardless of what the evil thing might have to say about it. The Peverell mark again…it does seem to keep cropping up, doesn’t it?” 

Unbidden, Neville’s explanation for what the mark meant came to mind:

_“It’s the symbol for the deathly hallows—the elder wand, the stone of resurrection, and the cloak of invisibility, see?”_  
   
“I have an invisibility cloak, and a symbol like this on my gate…this place has the same symbol on the gate…and now here’s this ring. This isn’t the usual sort of precious stone you’d expect to see on a ring…” 

The idea seemed absurd—ludicrous even. An old, ugly stone on an old, ugly ring, that could call back the dead—that’s how it went in the story…except, the guy’s wife wasn’t happy with being called back to the land of the living, and he went mad with grief and killed himself. A typical fairy-tale warning—just because you could do something, didn’t mean you should. It suddenly seemed a terrible responsibility, having such power—you could keep your loved ones with you, you could learn the secrets of the ages…but possibly at the cost of your own sanity, and the pain and despair of your loved ones. Even knowing how the story went, it was a terrible temptation—he could see his parents, meet his grandparents and great-grandparents…talk to the Founders, or Merlin, or any of a hundred thousand other powerful and respected witches and wizards of the past. He could learn magic that hadn’t been seen on the earth for hundreds of thousands of years… 

It was a power many a grieving family would give their right arm for, and many a greedy, power mad man or woman would kill for. 

“I do seem to have legendary artifacts just fall into my lap, don’t I?” Harry sighed to himself. He took the ring off and dropped it into the pouch on his belt. He’d put it with the others. Maybe one of these days he’d even figure out just what the odd layers of spells that all the items had in common was. He rose from the ground, brushing off the light dusting of snow that had soaked into his trousers and headed back to the house, putting the ring out of his mind for the time being. The day wasn’t getting any younger, and they still had a lot of work to do. 

He saw Andromeda and Ted coming out of the house, and so made like he was inspecting the furniture they’d put outside to air out. Most of it was in surprisingly good condition, considering the state the house had been in.  
   
“Ah, Harry, come to help us, have you?” Ted said cheerfully.

“Sure. The others can handle the few dirty rooms left. What are you two doing with the furniture anyway?”

“Ah, come here, my young apprentice, and I shall show you.” Ted said pompously. 

“I am in your hands, oh master craftsman!” Harry agreed with a snicker and a solemn bow. 

Ted showed him how they were repairing weak spots in the wood—they were simply removing the bad parts wholesale, and then cutting a piece of fresh wood from the stack of boards they had with them, transfiguring it into matching wood, fitting it into the hole and then making the two pieces meld together. Once it was done, you couldn’t tell a piece had ever been removed. 

“Home furniture repair made easy.” Ted said proudly once he was done. 

“That was cool. I guess none of the stuff is going to need to be thrown out?”

“So far it doesn’t look like it—oh, the mattresses for the beds will have to be thrown out and replaced, and there’s a couple of chairs that we just got rid of outright—the upholstery was rotted, and so was most of the wood underneath. Everything else so far seems to be pretty good, or fixable with a few small repairs.” Andromeda agreed. “Which is fortunate—all this stuff is good, solid, well made antique furniture. Have you seen some of the cheap garbage they’re selling in stores these days? Badly made, hastily glued together, poorly padded. They don’t make furniture like this anymore, so it’s best to hold onto it if at all possible.” 

“You figure Barty will be bringing over some stuff from his old house, so what little we got rid of will hardly be missed. Whatever doesn’t get used can be sent to your vault, or just stored in the attic once the house is finished being set up.” 

Harry stayed there with them, learning how to repair furniture, remove scratches and polish it up till it looked like new, while the others finished cleaning and painting inside.  
   
The shadows were starting to grow long when everyone came outside to inspect the furniture.

“Oh, I like that…the chairs too….ooh, pretty…Oh, I know just the place for that…” Dora pointed.  
“I’ve got a chair like this that I like just fine, hmm…I like my mother’s table better…” Barty mused.

One piece at a time was either sent into a room to be set up, or banished to the attic by the helpful house elves. When the last piece was gone from the yard, everyone headed back inside.

“Geez, it got crowded in here…where’d all this stuff come from?”

“It’s stuff from my house. We went through the whole place, cleaned it and packed away everything and locked it down, so it was simple enough to just retrieve what we wanted to take with us and send it here. The elves have been busy doing that while we were finishing the last couple of rooms." Barty explained.

Everywhere Harry looked there were piles of chairs, couches and tables, stacks of rolled-up rugs, boxes of knick-knacks, folded piles of curtains…

Nymphadora stretched and cracked her back.

“Man, I’m just about knackered—all those cleaning charms begin to add up after a while.”

“We ready to call it a night?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, looks like. Thanks for the help, everyone.” She glanced around at the house with a prideful smile “It all looks great.”

Indeed, the house was transformed—the dingy walls had been painted, the wooden floors gleamed, the chandeliers sparkled, the new windows gave a panoramic view of the surrounding countryside in all its winter glory. Down below, the town of Little Hangleton glittered with festive Christmas lights, making it look like mother Earth had gathered a pile of multicolored stars in her lap. 

“I’m so glad the Auror Academy is out for the holidays—I wouldn’t be able to concentrate tomorrow if I had to be in class. I’d be too caught up in planning out how to decorate this place.” 

“We’ll leave you to it. I can’t wait to see it when it’s done—you’ll have to invite everyone over for a house warming party after you get back from your honeymoon.” Adeline suggested.  
   
   
Everyone went their separate ways once they got back to Grimmauld Place—Sirius and Adeline ensconced themselves in the study with some brandy, Remus headed upstairs to his room to either read or take a nap—or perhaps both. Harry headed up to his room, got cleaned up and changed, dropped off the ring in the bottommost compartment of his parents’ trunk along with the rest of the historical artifacts he’d collected and then dug in his school trunk for the lively picture of the chamber of secrets. He’d hadn’t checked it in a while, and he both wanted to see what the shades of Tom Riddle were up to, and to test a theory.  
 

“Let’s see what you’ve been up to shall we? Oh, that’s new…”

The former lounge had been transformed into a bedroom. There were two beds—the younger had one half of the room, the teen version the other side. It was strange to see them, and made Harry wonder how they could be the same person—even if they were different ages.

The youngest Tom Riddle’s bed was neatly made. There was a shelf above the bed which contained a number of books, arranged in alphabetical order, and with the spines rigidly lined up in a straight line, and a number of small treasures—a whistle, an old coin, a rock that was shaped vaguely like a cat. 

Teen Riddle’s bed was a mess—covers and pillows everywhere, and there were pictures on the walls around it—a bevy of curvy women all winking and blowing kisses to the viewer in one, two chiseled men in the other having a duel: their wands moved so fast and the spells flew so quickly they had a continuous blur of shifting, multicolored light between them, there were also several of quidditch players, which was surprising, as for some reason Tom Riddle had never struck him as being a fan. There were books near his bed as well, but they were in haphazard piles around the bed, mixed with papers and notebooks filled with notes, doodles and random designs.  
   
Teacher-mort, as Harry had started to think of him, had set up quarters adjoining his classroom. There were now stairs leading up into what must have been the body of the statue. 

Harry dug out his sketchbook and tried to imagine what the room looked like. Under his wand an image began to form. The room was slightly oval in shape, and larger than it should have been if it was in the statue’s body—space expansion charms most likely. 

His bed was neatly made, though without the crisp hospital corners and rigid perfection of the kid’s bed. He had a shelf of books on the wall, and more piled on the bedside tables. They were arranged more neatly than the teenager’s, but not as obsessively as the kid’s were. He supposed he could see how they were the same person—he was obviously an obsessive neat-freak as a kid, had become a lazy slob as a teen, and found a happy medium as an adult…that was Harry’s guess, anyway. 

The three in question were currently in Teacher-mort’s classroom. The little one was taking notes as the eldest lectured, his pale face intent and serious. The teen was slumped over his desk, chin resting in his hand, and gazing into the distance, lost in daydreams. 

He flipped the picture back to the front where the main chamber was pictured and pulled his wand. He visualized the ring he’d found earlier and tapped his wand to the page, leaving a picture of the ring on the floor of the main chamber. 

Much as he’d been expecting, it too came with its own Voldemort. 

This Voldemort looked to be somewhere between 18-25, tall and slim with shoulder-length hair. He was all angles, this one, with sharp, hallowed cheeks and thin, long-fingered hands. It was a good look for him. He was dressed quite conservatively, wearing plain dark robes. 

When he appeared, his eyes widened and darted around the room in consternation, then he spun in place, wand already in hand when he heard the other three coming up behind him as they exited Teacher-Mort’s classroom. 

Teacher-mort’s eyes narrowed when he caught sight of the newcomer, the kid crossed his arms and studied the newcomer suspiciously, the teen swaggered into the room and slouched insouciantly against the doorjamb and smirked. 

Ring-mort—for lack of a better name—gestured imperiously to the others with his wand and demanded answers. The teen stretched and swaggered out to meet him. He had his wand in hand, Harry saw, though he’d kept it low to his side out of sight. Said wand flicked out and the ring, which was still on the floor, landed in the teen’s hand. Ring-mort’s eyes widened when he saw the ring in the teen’s hands and his fist clenched at his side, even as the wand raised to point at the teenager threateningly. Teacher-mort sighed and barked an order to the teen, who was once again slouched, this time against the wall. The teen rolled his eyes at the older version of himself and then frowned irritably when the ring vanished from his hand only to reappear on the hand of Ring-mort.  
   
Teen Riddle glowered at the ring. 

“What’s that? Where’d it come from?”  
Ring-mort glanced down at the ring contemplatively.  
“I got this from dear uncle Morfin.” he answered, his face twisting up in bitter distaste. Diadem-mort crossed his arms and made a similar face, but the teen and kid perked up just a bit.  
“We have an uncle?” the teen asked curiously.  
“Was there anyone else?” the kid wondered at the same time. “How’d you meet him?”

Diadem-mort sighed and motioned everyone towards the table and chairs that were set up in the main chamber. Ring-mort conjured himself a chair and seated himself at one end of the table. The eldest took the other end, and the two youngest seated themselves down one side, conveniently leaving all four facing Harry as he peered at the picture.

“The summer after that girl died…”  
“What girl?”  
“The annoying one the basilisk took out, don’t interrupt if you want to know. There was an article in the paper that Morfin Gaunt was getting out of prison. He and his father Marvolo Gaunt had both been sent there for attacking aurors. Marvolo died in Azkaban. I realized he was probably a relative, so I went out to Little Hangleton to meet him that summer.”  
“Wow. And he was our uncle? And Marvolo was our grandfather?”  
“Yes.”  
“What did he look like?” 

The kid was the one asking all the questions, but it was obvious the teen was just as interested in the answers as his younger counterpart was. Ring-mort sighed and rolled his eyes before flicking his wand at an empty space.  
The image of a man with eyes that looked in two directions, with a lopsided face, bad teeth and a wild shock of lank hair that hung in his face appeared. The man looked quite deranged, and had the waxy look of someone just out of Azkaban.  
Ring-mort flicked his wand again and then again. The next image that appeared was of a stout man who looked rather like a monkey—rather like the statue of Slytherin, actually. Next to him appeared a young woman of about 18. She was dressed in a shapeless grey dress, had long dark hair, and eyes that looked in two directions. She was probably the most defeated looking person Harry had ever laid eyes on. 

“Uncle Morfin, Grandpa Marvolo…”  
“Is that…?”  
Ring-mort and Diadem-mort both glanced at the woman briefly and looked away.  
“Yes. That’s our mother. Her name was Merope.”  
Teen-mort and Kid-mort studied the woman at length, their faces unreadable.  
   
After studying his mother’s image at length, teen Riddle turned and studied the table with great interest. Harry couldn’t really tell what he was thinking or feeling at the moment; the kid was easier to read. 

“Did you find out anything about the…did you find out anything about our father?”  
Ring-mort sneered, as did Diadem-mort, which caused the teen to glance up warily once more.  
“Oh yes, I found our filthy muggle father alright. He and his parents were in a mansion on a hill living the high life while we rotted away in that orphanage.”  
Teen Riddle’s face darkened, and then kid flinched minutely as though he’d been struck.  
“Did…did they know about us? What did he have to say for himself? What did they look like?”

Ring-mort glowered and flicked his wand into the empty space on the other side of his chair, and three more people appeared: an older couple and a man who looked to be in his thirties. They were all dressed in expensive clothing, and the woman was decked out in jewelry that would have fed the orphanage for a month easily. The younger man looked like both of his parents—he had his father’s dark hair and eyes, his mother’s high cheekbones and aquiline nose, and his build was halfway between his father’s bulk and his mother’s delicate build. 

He seemed to have gotten their best features—and Ring-mort could have been his twin had they had their hair the same and been dressed alike.  
   
Harry flopped back on his bed and considered everything he’d just learned. 

Tom Riddle had gone to Little Hangleton to look for Morfin after he’d gotten out of prison, and Morfin had mistaken him for ‘the muggle on the hill’ until he’d shown him that he too was a parselmouth. Morfin had been wondering what had become of his sister, and had learned of her fate, dying at the height of a storm in a muggle orphanage in London while giving birth to the muggle’s baby. They had talked for a while, and Morfin had given Tom the ring and asked for his wand in turn so he could go and ‘kill the muggle bastards once and for all’. He had nothing left to lose, as he saw it—the muggles had already taken his house, his father and his sister from him. All that was left for him was to waste away in the shack alone, waiting for death. He preferred to go out in a blaze of glory-he didn’t think he could rest easy unless the muggles paid for their crimes against their family.  
   
Tom Riddle had stupefied the man and left him there, as he wanted a chance to question the muggles first. When he’d gotten up to the house and let himself in, he had seen the three of them seated around the table, framed in the doorway. It had been the scene he’d seen in the Mirror of Erised during Christmas break his first year. He’d had a psychotic episode or something, as the next thing he really remembered was standing there, wand out and realizing all three of them were dead and he’d never gotten the chance to demand answers. 

He had a spare wand he’d found in the Room of Requirement—what Harry knew as the ‘come and go room’—at Hogwarts, that he used to practice any spells or magic he knew Dumbledore wouldn’t approve of. He used priori incantatum to transfer those three spells to the spare, which he left with Morfin, and then altered his memories to remove any memory of himself. 

When the aurors had come looking, Morfin had confessed and been sent back to Azkaban, where he died within a few months. Tom had returned to school with the ring, which he had worn for a few weeks, until being told that, even if it was in fact a sign of Peverell descent, the Peverells lived long enough ago that everyone had their blood, and so he just looked like a fool flashing it around. He had stopped wearing it after that. 

A week later, Albus Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts on the heels of his victory over Grindlewald, and had swiftly risen to international acclaim.  
   
Harry could only think it was ironic—Tom Riddle had essentially disinherited himself with his psychotic episode. If he had simply sat back and allowed Morfin to kill the Riddles, Tom Riddle would likely have inherited the combined Riddle-Gaunt estate. Instead, Tom Riddle had gone looking for answers, had a psychotic episode and lost everything. He never even got a chance to find out definitively whether or not his father had even known of his existence. 

Another thing Harry had found interesting about the story was that Morfin had been killing snakes and nailing them to the door because they kept coming around looking for his sister so they could tell her how to make a love potion to ensnare muggle Tom Riddle. He figured once he and his father were gone, they’d finally been able to pass on their message. Merope likely followed their instructions, and had ensnared Tom long enough for them to elope. If she hadn’t realized she had to keep feeding him the potion to keep his interest, it might explain how she ended up bereft and pregnant in London, penniless and dying in an orphanage. There was a chance Tom Riddle the elder didn’t actually know about his son—he might simply have woken as though from a dream, looked at his wife and fled. Conversely, he might have known, and fled in horror either way, and wanted no part of any son that woman produced. 

Sympathy for Merope Gaunt and her orphaned son aside, Harry couldn’t really blame the guy that much—he’d had his free will usurped and been essentially raped. Under such circumstances, one could understand him wanting to flee and leave it all behind him.  
   
He shuddered then, remembering the Gaunt family that Ring-mort had shown the others. The kid had asked if he knew what their other grandmother had looked like. He did, he had seen her in Morfin’s memories while they were talking. She looked like Marvolo Gaunt with longer, darker hair and wearing a dress. 

It was pretty obvious that, had Marvolo and Morfin not gone to prison when they did, and Merope not used the love potion to ensnare Tom Riddle, any children Merope might have had would likely have been Morfin’s children—he was the only person ‘pure’ enough for the house of Gaunt. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle really should be thanking his lucky stars that he had a muggle father—he might not have survived infancy otherwise, probably would have been badly deformed had he lived, might not have been able to use magic or gone to Hogwarts. 

He might have been miserable in the orphanage, but growing up Gaunt would have been worse by far.

Harry fell asleep, sprawled across his covers, thinking about all of it, and he dreamed. He dreamed of a young Merope, yearning and trembling while she offered the handsome muggle boy a drink of water laden with love potion….young Tom Riddle sr. awakening from a beautiful dream to find himself far from home with a witch for a wife and fleeing into the night. He dreamed of Merope’s despair as she wandered the streets, cold and starving, lost and without hope and with no one she could turn to for help.

He dreamed of Tom Riddle stalking up to the house of Riddle, searching for answers, and leaving only shocked looking corpses behind him.  
 

He woke disoriented, not sure what had awakened him. There was a nagging feeling on the edge of his senses that told him something had just happened. He saw the picture, abandoned on the bed nearby, and realized there was a lot of agitated movement within it. 

The littlest Tom Riddle was crying, and had his arms wrapped around himself. The other three were in various states of distress as well, though none moreso than Ring-mort.  
Ring-mort staggered to his feet as he seemed to twist and morph. He was screaming. Suddenly he elongated and shot towards the mouth of the statue. The ring he wore on his hand fell to the floor behind him and disappeared. 

Harry felt a pulse of energy from his trunk—faint and distant, but there, at the same time a lance of fiery agony tore across his scar. Harry choked off a cry and fell back onto the bed, with both hands pressing against the scar as ripple after ripple of pain shot through it. 

After what could have been hours or minutes, he just wasn’t sure, the agony ended and left a dull throbbing ache behind.  
   
Harry held himself still for a long moment, half afraid the pain would start again. When nothing happened after a few minutes, he carefully got up from his bed and stumbled into the bathroom, wincing as he turned on the light. 

His face was pale and bloodless, and his scar stood out in livid relief against his forehead. It was inflamed and hot to the touch, and it was bleeding. 

He cleaned it up as best he could and dabbed it with pain-relieving cream before downing a headache potion. His muscles unknotted as the pain disappeared, leaving him feeling limp as a wet noodle. Only when the pain was gone did he realize he’d been sweating, and now his skin was clammy to the touch. He set the tub to filling up with hot water while he began peeling off his sodden clothing. 

After soaking for a bit and relaxing, he was once again able to think clearly. After dressing in clean pajamas, he headed down into his parents’ trunk and gathered up the ring. The enchantment that had been on it that made it like the other items down there was undone. Harry headed back up to his room and flopped down on his bed once more, and picked up picture. The three remaining Voldemorts were still seated around the table, looking shaken.  
 

_“All those items, he put bits of his soul into them. The little one was crying. All he could see was that they’d found the family they’d always wanted, and killed them, without ever knowing one way or another whether they might want him back. Whatever the enchantment was on the items, there must be some sort of remorse clause—you probably have to kill someone to make it work; it would make sense—a symbolic trade of their life for your continued existence. If you regret the sacrifice, the enchantment is undone. Ring-mort didn’t regret the deaths of his parents and grandparents…but they’re all the same person, for all that they’re broken into pieces like they are, so the kid’s remorse still counts. The other pieces are still separate, so they must each have to invoke the remorse clause for their particular murder to undo the enchantments on the item they themselves are stuck into. What a mess…it’s no wonder the guy was a raging psychopathic maniac—he literally tore himself apart, destroyed his soul bit by bit.”_

He set the picture aside and flung an arm across his forehead as he continued thinking things through.

_“In the original picture, it was Snakey-mort and the teenager. Snakey-mort was wearing Quirrel’s clothes at first—in fact…Hermione even insisted it was Voldemort who was after the stone. He must have been possessing him or something…though it does beg the question of how she knew that. Snakey-mort is the original—or rather, what was left after all the other parts of him were torn out. All the rest of the pieces have an item associated with them…except the kid. He appeared with the mirror, but it was destroyed and he stayed.”_

Just like that, Harry understood. Tentatively, he reached up and ran his fingers lightly across his scar. 

_“I’m the item. The kid is the soul piece in me. That’s why I was able to make this picture. That’s why I’m able to get so much feedback from it. I somehow externalized the connection into a visual format that I could interact with. Each time I add one of the items, I’m just linking myself and the soul piece in me into the network, and I’m getting more solid feedback from all of them.”_

Harry let out a shaky breath as his mind raced. “Snakey-mort, Locket-mort, Diadem-mort, Ring-mort, Diary-mort and the kid. That’s six pieces. He tore himself into six pieces”

The words sounded wrong and he knew with sudden certainty that they were. 

“No…seven pieces. Seven is the most magical number. If one anchor would be enough to make you functionally immortal, there’s no good reason to make more unless you’re doing it with purpose. He split himself into seven pieces. There’s one more. What could it be? He has an item from Slytherin, from Ravenclaw, from the Peverells—though I suppose he actually has two from Peverell if you count me…unless I’m supposed to count as something from Gryffindor? We did live in Godric’s Hallow after all, and the Potters seem to have all been Gryffindors. His own diary was another item, the remaining piece that continued to function as Lord Voldemort. All that’s missing…is Hufflepuff.” 

Harry hopped out of bed and went to where his pouch was on the dresser, and drew out his frog card collection. He flipped through till he found Helga Hufflepuff’s card. Plump, red-haired and smiling, she held a golden cup in her hands. Harry studied the thing at length. It had a badger on it, and two handles, and looked like a miniature trophy cup with a pedestal bottom. He put the cards away and went back to the picture, scrutinizing it with purpose. 

Within the picture, kid-mort looked up from his studied contemplation of the table and turned to Diadem-mort with a question.

Diadem-mort pursed his lips and nodded. Harry was right—there was one more piece, contained in Hufflepuff’s cup. 

Lost in thought, he put away the picture and climbed back into bed. As he was drifting off to sleep, he realized he had a trunk full of soul-pieces belonging to the former dark lord there in his room. It was a rather disquieting thought to go to sleep to.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meet-the-family dinner, holiday parties, plotting Slytherins, Barty and Nymphadora get married,  
> more revelations and Harry makes a plan.

“Harry…Harry? Hey, kiddo, rise and shine.”

  
Harry opened his eyes and stared at Sirius with incomprehension for a long moment.

  
“Sirius? What…?”

  
“This is a weird turnaround. Usually you’re up, out of the house and facing down bizarre house-thieves and kidnappers before the rest of us have even gotten out of bed. Imagine my surprise when I came down this morning and was told you weren’t even awake yet. Are you feeling alright? You’re not sick are you? The elves said something about you taking a bath late last night…”

  
Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, still unable to believe he’d actually slept through his usual morning workout. All he could figure was that the thing with his scar had taken more out of him than he’d realized.

  
“I woke up last night with a really bad headache and I was sweating real bad. I took a headache potion and had a hot bath and then went back to bed.” He answered honestly.

  
“You’re not coming down with something I hope. Are you running a fever? How do you feel now?”

  
“I feel alright—no more headache and I’m not sweating anymore.”

  
Sirius frowned, felt his forehead and his neck and peered into each of his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  
“Yeah, I’m fine.”

  
“This isn’t some plot to get out of having lunch with Adeline’s family is it?”

  
“Huh? Oh, right, that’s today, isn’t it?”

  
“Okay, not a plot then. You feel alright to be getting up?”

  
“Yeah, I told you, I’m fine.”

  
“Okay then. You’ll let me know if you start feeling bad again, right?”

  
“Sure, sure. Stop fussing.”

  
“Alright. Get dressed and get down to breakfast. Wear something nice but not fancy and make sure it’s muggle-friendly.”

  
“I thought we were staying here?”

  
“We are—Adeline’s grandpa is a muggle, remember?”

  
“Oh, right. He’s coming here, huh? Your ancestors must be rolling in their graves.”

  
“I’m pretty sure none of my relatives became infieri…what did you hear something rattling around in the mausoleum?”

  
Harry stared at him blankly and then sighed. “It’s a figure of speech. It just means your relatives would be horrified.”

  
“Right, because muggles are so likely to be rolling around in their graves.” Sirius scoffed. “unless they were made into vampires. Geez, have vampires been turning muggles? I didn’t think they could become vampires, just lunch.”

  
“Figure of speech.” Harry repeated. “No vampires.”  
   
 

 

  
“That must be them now…” Sirius croaked, while wiping his hands down his trousers. Arcturus and Melania, Sirius’ grandparents’ smiled in amusement as he went stumbling off to answer the door.

  
“He’s a nervous wreck” Remus chortled. “Oh, the blackmail possibilities.” He glanced at Harry and grinned. “I really wish your father was here. Sirius used to give him a hard time about Lily during all the years he was chasing her. He would have loved the chance to get a bit of his own back.”

  
“I guess I’ll just have to do it for him.”

  
They could hear voices in the hall, including Sirius’ mother’s portrait, and then a small group of people approached the parlor where the rest of them were waiting. Sirius and Adeline were the first through the door, followed by a couple who could only be Adeline’s parents. Her father looked a bit like Marcus Flint from Slytherin, though his features were not quite as rugged—Harry thought he vaguely remembered Sirius mentioning that Adeline’s grandmother was Talia Flint, so he supposed that wasn’t so surprising. Adeline’s mother looked rather like her, though she was blonde had the same eyes as Andromeda and Narcissa’s mother, whereas Adeline was dark-haired and seemed to have her father’s eyes; again, not too surprising, as Adeline’s mother and Narcissa and Andromeda’s mother were both Rosiers. The final person through the door was a surprise.

  
“You have got to be kidding me! What are the odds?”

  
“Harry? Well, I’ll be damned. Small world, isn’t it?” the old man cackled. “Wait till I tell the boys!”

  
The other adults in the room stirred and looked between the two of them in confusion.

  
“Excuse me? You two know each other?” Adeline’s father asked.

  
“That’s Sarge from the VFW outpost.”  
“And that’s my little buddy, Harry.”  
   
 

  
Lunch ended up being a much friendlier and more casual affair than Sirius had feared; he’d been worried about being interrogated and given the third degree. Aurelius Gardiner, Adeline’s father, forwent his chance to grill Sirius and make him sweat, because he was too busy watching his father and Harry cheerfully chattering at one another from the corner of his eye.

  
To think he’d been worried about bringing the old man with them. Even if Sirius wasn’t a typical member of the House of Black, he was still one of them. A muggle had never been in Grimmauld place—except perhaps long ago, and then they wouldn’t have been an invited guest, but a guinea pig to try out new spells on.

  
As a halfblood he hadn’t been shunned by his pureblood relations, but there was always that faint sense of being ‘not quite good enough’. It had been a happy day indeed when pureblood Elaine Rosier had agreed to look past his unfortunate blood status and marry him anyway, in spite of the furor her family had put up against the match.

  
With a history like that, it could perhaps be understood why he’d been less than enthusiastic about his muggle father tagging along to meet Adeline’s beau. Adeline had been the one who insisted—she and her grandfather had always been rather close, unlike his father and himself.

  
He hadn’t spent much time with his father once he’d started Hogwarts. Truthfully, he hadn’t spent much time with his father before Hogwarts. He’d actually taken him to the old VFW post a few times. He’d found it boring—what kid wants to sit around listening to a bunch of old muggles flapping their jaws about their glory days?

  
Apparently, Harry Potter did.

  
“Did I ever tell you about the time me and Gunny rescued Tiny and Grim…”  
“No, I don’t think so.”  
“Oh, that’s a great story. We’d been pinned down by enemy fire…”

  
You could see the kid had heard the story before, it was obvious on his face. He didn’t tell him to just shut up already though, he sat there patiently while the old man went on and on and on. He’d never seen his old man so animated.  
   
 

 

  
“I can’t believe the holiday break is going so quickly. It’s already Christmas.” Harry complained as he came down in his dress robes. They had spent the morning opening presents and eating a wonderful breakfast and lunch provided by Oddment, and were now getting ready for the Malfoy Christmas party.

  
“Yes, halfway gone and we’ve yet to so much as look at the diadem.”

  
“We’ve still got time, stop worrying.”

  
“Everyone ready?”

  
“Adeline not coming?” Remus asked.

  
“She’s heading over separately. We’ll see her there. Same with Barty and Dora. I think they’ve pretty much moved into Riddle House already. Oh well, they’re getting married in just a few days, so I suppose there’s no harm done.”

  
“Looks like we’re all ready then.”

  
“Alright, let’s head out.” Sirius announced before tossing in a handful of floo powder. “Malfoy Manor!”

  
Harry followed after and was pleased when he didn’t stumble even a bit. He’d had trouble with floo travel previously—the only thing that had kept him from falling flat on his face was his ninja training and good reflexes. After having fun at his expense, Sirius had finally let him in on the secret—turn against the momentum and start walking when you feel yourself slow down.  It was much easier once he knew that.

  
   
The Malfoys had, as always, outdone themselves. The house was decked with pine boughs and clusters of holly, twinkling lights and decorative fairies. In the center of the front parlor was a massive twelve-foot tall Christmas tree blazing with light and color. Witches and Wizards, all in their holiday best, wandered the halls, talking and laughing. The smell of food and drink hung heavy in the air and the sound of music and dancing drifted down the halls.

  
The Malfoy's themselves were lined up nearby, greeting their guests as they arrived. They were, all three, dressed in white, and Narcissa sparkled with a few discreet diamonds. They had positioned themselves so that they were framed by a light display behind them which gave them all an illusionary halo. You couldn’t fault them on their sense of showmanship.

  
   
“Ah, Mr. Potter. I’d been wondering if I’d be seeing you here.”

  
“Oh, Head Auror Scrimgeour, hello. Happy Christmas.”

  
“Happy Christmas. Thank you for getting word to us so swiftly about all that oddness with your house by the way. It was the break we needed to clear up something that's been a bit of a mystery that's become increasingly worrisome in recent years--namely, where are all the magical houses going? It seems they've been getting cleared out and sold to muggles."

  
"So are they in prison?"

  
"Unfortunately, no. There wasn't anything we could actually charge them with. The houses in question were empty, the families died out, and so they didn't technically belong to anyone. We can't even charge them with secrecy violations since they un-magicked everything before selling it."

  
Harry glowered unhappily.

  
"I wouldn't fret overmuch. They might not be in prison, but even the pro-muggle sorts are a bit disgusted with them. I doubt any of them will have an easy time of things from here on out. We are a very small community."

  
"Even if that's the case, I'm still not happy." Harry grumbled.

  
 “Understandable. So, you solve any more old cases lately?”

  
Harry grinned disarmingly and rocked back on his heels.

  
“Actually, I’m glad you asked. The other day I was at the Riddle house…Barty and Nymphadora just moved in to the place after we fixed it up—that part’s not important. I was talking to the caretaker of the place. He’s been there since the Riddles were still alive you know. The muggle police actually accused him of the crime. Poor guy; they had to let him go for lack of evidence, but the folks in town have been shunning him since that day, because they’re all convinced he must have done it. I sent him to Tuscany for Christmas. Maybe he’ll meet some saucy Italian who’s a good cook and have a few good years before he dies. He’s really old and stuff.”

  
Scrimgeour opened his mouth to interrupt, but Harry continued on.

  
“He said he saw a young man in the distance the day the Riddles were murdered. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the place—it’s up on a hill overlooking the town. No one thereabouts really had any cause or reason to be on their grounds. I had wondered, you see, why Tom Riddle didn’t inherit. I think I know why now. I think he killed them and framed his uncle. My guess—psychotic episode. Very tragic.”

  
Scrimgeour opened his mouth again and then reconsidered a moment.

  
“Psychotic episode? Why do you think that?”

  
“Because of the mirror.”

  
“I’m not following you.”

  
“I’m a little hungry. What say we get some food and then I can tell you all about it?”

  
“Sure. Let’s do that.”

 

 

   
“Can I have your attention please?” Aurelius called out during a break between numbers. The dancers and those talking in small groups quieted down and turned their attention to him.

  
“Thank you. Tonight, I have glad tidings to share with all of you. I am pleased to announce the engagement of my beloved daughter Adeline Elaine Gardiner to Sirius Orion Black. Please share our joy tonight in this happy occasion.”

  
Applause sounded throughout the room, and people began lining up to congratulate the happy couple.

  
Scrimgeour and Harry glanced over to where all the hubbub was taking place.

  
“Ah, well. Congratulations.”

  
Harry gave him an odd look. “Why are you congratulating me? I’m not getting married.”

  
“Well, no, but you’ll be getting a new godmother, will you not?”

  
“I suppose.”

  
“Not exactly a rousing endorsement.”

  
Harry shrugged. “She seems nice enough, and she makes Sirius happy. I’ll be away at school most of the year, so it’s not like it will really affect me all that much.”

  
“You’re not likely to be the heir of the House of Black for much longer.”

  
“I gave Sirius the ring Gringott’s gave me when I went to visit him in the hospital before I started Hogwarts. Being heir to the House of Black was never important to me. I’ll admit I wasn’t too thrilled when she first started coming around, but not because of anything as stupid as being heir…it was more that I didn’t want things to change. She’s been around for a while now, and things haven’t actually changed at all, except that she’s around. I guess I stopped worrying about it at some point. I guess I must have just resigned myself to it yesterday at lunch. We had her parents and her grandpa over. Not only was it a sign of how serious things had gotten, but I found out I already knew her grandfather—in fact, he’s sort of been like a grandfather to me. I used to go visit him and some of his old army buddies at the VFW outpost while I was still living with my aunt and uncle. I think at that point I sort of realized it was inevitable—you know, small world and all.”

  
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

  
“Yeah. Speaking of Adeline’s grandpa…you might want to look into an arrest warrant that’s out for Jade Rogers.”

  
“You just lost me.”

  
“When Nymphadora Tonks was undercover as Jade Rogers, we were both at the mall and ran into Adeline’s grandpa. He made a joke about her being my girlfriend. Later, after I figured out she was a witch, we got into an argument about it in my neighborhood. My neighborhood is full of really bored housewives that like to gossip. Someone called the cops and told them that some older woman who worked at the library was carrying on an inappropriate relationship with a very underage boy, namely me. The cops looked into it, and discovered that Jade Rogers was a fake identity. My cousin Dudley’s friend Piers’ uncle’s neighbor works at the police station in Surrey. He, my cousin that is, told me they put out a warrant for her arrest. I thought maybe you should do something about that.”

 

  
   
They were interrupted from further talk by the arrival of Daphne Greengrass. She looked at his robes and sighed ruefully.

  
“Hello Daphne. You look nice today.”

  
“Thanks.”

  
“You know, it’s funny…the robes I was originally going to wear tonight were the very same blue-green you’re wearing now. I changed my mind at the last minute and decided to go with the red—more festive, you know.”

  
“You don’t say. What a coincidence.”

  
“Yeah, gosh—we’d have looked like we’d planned to wear matching outfits or something.”

  
Scrimgeour had sat quietly while the two kids talked, though he wondered at the inane conversation they were having—that is, until Daphne flushed in embarrassment at Harry’s words.

  
“That would have been awkward.” Daphne agreed with a resigned sigh. “I believe you owe me a dance?”

  
“So I do. I believe I said a dance or three…not planning to collect on the others?”

  
“I’ll collect the rest at the wedding and at New Year’s.”

  
“Oh?”

  
“I’m going with Greg. Millicent is going with Vincent.”

  
“You should have fun; he’s been practicing his dancing.”

  
“Mill told me. She said I’d best appreciate all her suffering.”

  
Harry laughed and nodded. “Yeah, poor Millie-vanilli, she was limping for weeks.”

  
“Why do you call her that anyway?”

  
“It just slipped out the first time. She got so upset about it, I just couldn’t help myself from continuing.”

  
Daphne rolled her eyes at him. “My dance? It sounds like they’re about to start a new song.”

  
Harry rolled to his feet. “It was nice talking to you, Mr. Scrimgeour. If you’ll excuse us?”

  
“By all means. Have fun kids.”

  
They passed Pansy as they were heading to the dance floor. She took a look at his robes and huffed, crossing her arms, before shooting an apologetic look Daphne’s way.  
 

 

  
“What’s up with you?”  
“Harry. That jerk.”  
“Why, what did he do?”  
“I told you I ran into him while he was shopping for his dress robes, right?”  
“Yeah? What of it?”  
“I helped him pick them out. I asked which one he was wearing tonight, at the wedding and at the Ministry party. Daphne hadn’t gotten hers yet, so I was able to tell her what he was wearing and we got her robes in similar colors for tonight, in the same colors but opposite for the wedding, and then ones that coordinated for the Ministry party.”

  
“Why would you do that?”

  
“It was a beautiful plan. She was going to lay a subtle claim on him. We figured if people just got it into their heads that they were an item already, pretty much everyone but the weaselette would back off and that would give her time to reel him in. He lied to me about the order though and now the whole plan is ruined.”

  
“He probably realized you were up to something, even if he wasn’t quite sure what.”

  
“How? I was being really sneaky. All I did was give him fashion advice!”

  
“And grilled him on which he was wearing on which night and how he was going to accessorize, right?”

  
“So? What’s wrong with that?”

  
“It would have made him suspicious. Since he wasn’t sure what was going on, he just swapped around the order. I’m sure he figured out your whole plan the moment he laid eyes on Daphne.”

  
“Oh please, he did not.”

  
“He was giving Slytherin lessons, remember. He totally did.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“If you wanted to pull something like that it would have worked better if he had a sister or something. You could have grilled her for that information. Heck, if she was fine with Daphne, she probably would have helped, and warned you last minute if he changed his mind.”

  
“He doesn’t have a sister, so that really doesn’t help.”

  
“We were just saying. Anyway, that’s not really the tack to take with him. He’d want someone who was upfront with him, and willing to help him plot—not someone who’s plotting against him.”

  
“Coordinating outfits hardly counts as plotting against him.”

  
“Sure it does. In case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t like folks that try to control him, boss him around, keep stuff from him, or try to trick him.”

  
“Oh? He can dish it out, but not take it?”

  
“If you’re straight with him, he’s straight with you.”

  
“Yeah. If Daphne really wants to keep trying, she’s just going to have to learn to be his friend and see if anything comes of it. Just look at the Weaselette and Granger if you don’t believe us. Granger keeps trying to talk for him and boss him around. Weaselette is trying to do the same thing you two were, but without the coordinating outfits. He’s not having it from either one of them, and he probably won’t from you guys either.”

  
“You should also keep in mind that he’s still got a thing for Chang. Until he’s over that, probably no one’s going to have much luck.”

  
Pansy huffed again and looked out over the dancers. Harry and Daphne were still dancing together; they seemed to be having a good time.

  
“Huh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. He doesn’t seem to be objecting too much. If you ask me, Chang blew it when she started running around with Diggory.”

  
“That never actually happened. We looked into it.”

  
“Oh? What happened then?”

  
“They were in the candy shop at the same time, and were both in the Three Broomsticks at the same time, but not together either time. In fact, they only spoke to each other once. She asked him if he really liked candy or something and he told her he was picking stuff up for the first and second year Hufflepuffs that couldn’t come. As near as we can tell, Violet and the Fat Lady overheard someone talking about how Chang was cheating on Harry with Diggory and they ran with the story and spread it to the other portraits. Romilda Vane overheard them talking and she told everyone else. To judge by the confrontation Weaselette had with Chang over the matter, it seems pretty obvious she was the one who started the rumor in the first place.”

  
Pansy grimaced and crossed her arms. “If she wasn’t a weaselette Gryffindork, I could almost admire that.”

  
Vince and Greg nodded in understanding.  
   
 

 

  
Harry absently dried his hair as he headed back to his room to get ready for bed.  
The party had been fun, though he’d spent a lot more time dancing than he’d really intended to. He supposed he should be grateful to the old folks from the senior center for teaching him how; Sarge and the guys had told him it was a necessary skill and so he had learned it, but it was never anything he’d particularly enjoyed—though they told him he’d enjoy it more when he was older.

  
He felt like he’d danced with half the ladies there—not just girls he knew from school, but Adeline, Narcissa, Andromeda, Nymphadora, Melania, Adeline’s mum Elaine, and Druella as well.

  
He had spent a while chatting with Rufus Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour had asked if he had considered being an Auror in the future. Harry could admit he was flattered—there probably weren’t many guys out there who could boast being recruited for law enforcement at twelve. He had told him he’d keep the thought in mind, but for the moment he was still working towards being a healer-curse breaker. He rather thought Scrimgeour had been impressed when he told him why he and Neville were going that route, though he’d warned him that sometimes there was nothing that actually could be done and one had to accept that.

  
<i>“I realize that, I do. I’ll even admit part of me was hesitant to suggest such a course to Neville as I didn’t want to give him false hope…he was already in a bad place after his run-in with the mirror. I hope that the years between now and then will allow Neville the chance to resign himself to the possibility that nothing can be done, but I’m hopeful that if that is the case, he’ll be able to accept it and move on if he knows that he literally did everything that he could to change it.”</i>

  
   
It wasn’t all dancing and grim talk. Draco had unveiled to everyone a project he’d been working on—a dollhouse. He’d gotten razzed for it a bit by some of the guys until he’d explained why it was he’d made it.

  
“I realized something. I had no idea whatsoever how to go about building a house should I ever need to.”

  
“Couldn’t you just hire someone to do it for you?”

  
“What if, Merlin forbid, I lost all my money—or my father did, or my mother spent it all? It seems like a possibility, fathers always complaining as much whenever she goes shopping. While I honestly can’t think of any reason anyone would literally be dropped naked in the wood with just their wand, if it should ever happened, I thought perhaps I should be prepared. I made a list, you see. ‘What would I need to be able to do if that should ever happen? The first thing I came up with was build a house, the second was find food and clothing. I figured I would work on the house thing first, but father wouldn’t let me build a full-sized house on the lawn. That’s why I did it this way. I figure, so long as I know how, it won’t really matter if I’ve only ever done it on a small scale, as I could always just do everything bigger, right? So, that’s what I’m doing.” He had explained as he unveiled his doll house.

  
“As you can see, I still have a long way to go before I have a house I’d actually consent to live in” he added ruefully. “But I can work on that. I can only get better, right? I figure I can also use it to practice warding, probably other things I haven’t thought of yet as well.”

  
 They’d all been rather impressed with his idea; in fact the rest of them were thinking of trying their hand at it as well. They might even make it an ongoing contest at the Melting Pot.

  
Harry himself was eager to try his hand at it.

 

 

  
He went and gathered up the Voldemort picture and climbed into bed. He was curious to see what they were all up to, especially after one of the soul anchors had been undone the night before. While thinking about the soul anchors, he grabbed his wand and visualized Hufflepuff’s cup—it should work, after all, the teenager and his diary had shown up long before he had any idea what it meant—he was connected to all of the pieces by virtue of his scar.

  
The cup appeared in the picture, along with another Voldemort. The reactions of the others was instantaneous. Diadem-mort looked at him suspiciously, and then glanced at the kid looking troubled. The teen sneered at him half-heartedly and slouched back in his seat, though his eyes were glued to the golden cup rather covetously. He obviously recognized it as a Founder item; he seemed to be rather put out that everyone else had something expensive and historically significant, while he was stuck with a plain, old muggle diary.

  
The kid’s reaction to the newcomer was the most interesting. Though his face blanked almost immediately, Harry saw for a split second that he was horrified and disgusted by this latest incarnation. Harry could only agree with him.  
 

  
Kid-mort, the teenager and Ring-mort were all human and thought of themselves as such.

  
Diadem-mort and Locket-mort were more corpse than not, though still recognizably human, for all that they were starting to bloat and melt.

  
Snakey-mort was, well, a giant, red-eyed snake man. He had no nose, no lips, no ears. He was skeletally thin, and had creepily long fingers, and he was bald.

  
By itself, simply being a red-eyed snake-man wasn’t really all that big a deal—there were centaur and fauns, and veela and manticores, after all, and goblins and banshees and hags and vampires. So, while weird, it wasn’t all that disturbing by itself. What made Snakey-mort so monstrous was his inhuman appearance combined with his personality. There was nothing to him but megalomania, rage and an appetite for destruction. He had exactly two modes: sitting or strutting around and basking in his own imagined self-importance, and frothing-at-the-mouth homicidal mania. All the normal shades and gradations of emotion and personality that most people had were gone—because he’d torn them out and stuck them away in objects to insure his immortality.  
   
Cup-mort was monstrous in a different way. He was horrifying to look at. The slight bloating evident in Diadem-mort and Locket-mort had given way to dessication. His skin was dry and cracked till it resembled the scaled skin of a snake, and it stood out from his body slightly in places as though it were indeed a snake-skin about to be shed. Underneath that skin you could just glimpse the body beneath, and it no longer quite jelled with the pseudo-human appearance of the skin he wore overtop. He almost looked like he was wearing a full-body costume made of dead human flesh.

He was a monster that lurked in corners and under beds in fearful childhood imagination, wearing a human suit and pretending to be one of us. Looking at him, Harry could only wonder if, after making the cup an anchor, that human-suit had split and fallen away, and Snakey-mort had squirmed free, glistening with slime in some awful parody of birth.

  
The slow progression of red in the eyes of the other anchors had reached its maximum in him—his eyes were completely red, and his hair was gone but for a few brittle strands that clung still to the scalp of his human suit.

  
   
“That’s Hufflepuff’s cup.” The teenager said enviously. “Where did you get it?”

  
Cup-mort picked up the cup and stroked it with his fingers possessively. “It was a gift to Lord Voldemort.”

  
“Someone gave you Hufflepuff’s cup?”

  
“Yessss. If you are me, why do you not know this, Tom?”

  
“I was the first one, wasn’t I? I’ve been locked away in a ruddy muggle journal all this time.”

  
“Yessss…so foolish Tom. You had to be discarded so that Lord Voldemort could be born. Useless baggage, filled with foolish notions and human weaknesses. Lord Voldemort has no need of such things.”

  
The teen’s face darkened in anger—though there were traces of hurt and wounded pride as well.

  
Cup-mort studied the kid and Diadem-mort in turn.

  
“More foolishness and human weakness. Yessss…best to be rid of all of it, but why is Lord Voldemort here? Lord Voldemort has no wish to be tainted by such weak and foolish things…they were cast away, to insure our immortality. Our greatness is such that a mere human lifetime would not suffice. We shall rule this world and cleanse it of the impure. Filthy muggles…everywhere, tainting everything. We could feel it in our veins…we cast it out, cleansed ourselves of the muggle taint.”

  
He glanced at the kid and sneered in disgust. “Look at it, sitting there, in its rags from the orphanage. It pains us to remember…so weak…at the mercy of the filthy muggles…always cold and hungry…yesss…it was proper to cast it all out. Weak and useless.”

  
He looked back at the teenager and sneered again. “So worried about whether lesser beings liked him, so very careful to never put a foot wrong, cringing and slavering and sucking up like an overeager puppy looking for a pat on the head.”

  
He turned at last to Diadem-mort, who glowered at him, almost as though daring Cup-mort to criticize him.

  
“And you…no better than they are, you dared beg for scraps from the old fool and slunk off like a whipped cur. You did not even dare strike him down for standing in your way. It is a puzzlement…all the filth should have been long gone before you, but it is insidious…every time Lord Voldemort thought he had gotten rid of it, there was always more…clinging like tar and needing to be scraped away.”

  
“I have a hard time believing anyone would want to give you a present.” Kid-mort sneered.

  
“And yet it is true. Are you jealous, little weakling? All those years in the orphanage…years in Hogwarts. Did you never stop hoping for presents at Christmastime? Did you cry into your pillow at night, hoping someone cared? Weak and foolish, like I said. This cup was a present from an old and foolish woman. She was wealthy and so lonely, you see. She had a large family, all of whom were waiting eagerly for her to die so they could steal away her treasures. She saved her greatest treasures for the eyes of Lord Voldemort alone. This cup was hers, she was a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff, she claimed. She had one other great treasure—the locket of our ancestor. She told Lord Voldemort the story of how she acquired it. Caracatus Burke bought it from a wall-eyed tramp who was about to give birth. He assumed it was stolen, so he gave her ten galleons for it and sent her on her way, chortling over his good fortune for having swindled the girl. He sold it to Hezibah Smith for fifteen hundred galleons, and then bemoaned his greed, as he knew he could have asked ten times the price and gotten it. Lord Voldemort was not amused at her story, and she became frightened. She wanted to know why Lord Voldemort was not amused. Lord Voldemort was gracious and educated her on her terrible faux pas. She was remorseful, and gifted Lord Voldemort with cup and locket both. She confided that she planned to make Lord Voldemort her heir, as she was fond of us, more so than her greedy cousins. She told us, she thought of us as the son she never had but always wanted…”  
 

 

  
Harry rolled to his side and felt sick. He could almost see her—Hezibah Smith—overweight and foolish, with more money than she knew what to do with…and so very alone. She lived in a big house filled to the brim with junk that she wasted her vast fortune on. She had money and more things than any one person could have used in a lifetime—but she had no husband or children, no siblings, or parents, or aunts or uncles.

Most of her friends had died before her. All that was left were cousins, who weren’t interested in visiting or hanging out with the old broad; they would just check in every now and then to see if she was dead yet.

Tom Riddle’s visits had been the highlight of her days—he was her only real company, outside of her house elf. She would hint at the treasures hidden away in her junk-heap of a home so that he would keep coming back. She did everything in her power to stretch out their visits as long as possible. He was her only real human connection in those years, and he killed her.

His childhood in the orphanage and his childhood longing for family and connections had become a psychosis by the time he reached adulthood—a psychosis that had become inextricably entwined with his fear of death.

  
He had left that day, locket and cup in hand, after blowing Hezipah away during another psychotic episode. He altered the house elf’s memories and fled. He faked his death that very day, and took out Caracatus Burke in the process. He left England that same night, and traveled to Albania in search of the diadem. He knew he couldn’t stick around to try to inherit from Hezibah—her cousins would fight it, and there were too many dark secrets lurking in his past to allow it to go to trial. He had already decided years prior that he would make seven anchors to secure his immortality—and he finally had vessels worthy of his soul.

  
The kid was crying again—a single tear rolled down his cheek. The teenager shifted uncomfortably and looked pained.

  
“SSSTTTOOPPP! What are you doing, you fool! You weak, sentimental fool! Sssssstop! Why do you weep for that ignorant woman? Why? She was a necessary sacrifice for our greatness!”

  
“You’re not great.” The kid whispered as a second tear joined the first in rolling down his cheeks. “You’re a monster…and you’re the weak one…not me.”

  
Harry couldn’t help it, he tensed up, already knowing what was coming. A fiery bolt of agony tore through his scar, ripple after ripple. He clenched his jaw to hold back a scream—he didn’t want any company right now. He could feel blood on his forehead again—his head felt like it was going to split open. He half-wondered whether it was in fact going to just split in two and spill his brains all over the bed.

  
Harry curled into a ball and just lay there panting for a long time after the agony ended. He felt completely wrung out, and he was just getting the backlash—he couldn’t even bear to imagine what Voldemort himself was feeling. When he thought he could move without his head falling off, he uncurled himself from the ball he was in and stumbled to the bathroom, peeling off his sodden pajamas as he went.

  
“Damn it, and I just got done taking a bath too. I’ll have to remember to whip up some more headache potion tomorrow. If this keeps up I’m definitely going to need it.”

  
He downed a potion, rubbed pain-relieving cream into his scar and sunk down into the tub in a boneless heap.

  
“Geez…I hope all this isn’t giving me brain damage.”  
 

 

 

“Huh, looks like mail.” Sirius murmured. He patted his mouth with his napkin, as did Remus. The owl looked like it carried some sort of official correspondence, so naturally they each expected it would come to one of them. Instead, the owl landed in front of Harry.

  
“Gringott’s? What do they want, pup?”

  
“I’ll tell you as soon as I know.” Harry replied as he undid the letter. He fed the owl some of his bacon—much to Hedwig’s displeasure; she considered Harry’s bacon her sole province. The owl snatched it up and flew off immediately. Harry handed Hedwig a piece of bacon as well and opened his letter.

  
“Well? What’s it say?”

  
“It says there was a magical event of unknown origin or type that took place in one of my vaults late last night. They want me to come in so they can inspect it.”  
“Well, that doesn’t sound good. We should head over as soon as we’re done eating. Goblins are impatient little buggers, especially when it comes to a possible breach of the bank.”  
   
The Leaky Cauldron was sparsely populated given the early hour, much to Harry’s relief. Though he doubted Daedelus Diggle was going to make another kidnapping attempt on him, especially given that Sirius and Remus were both with him, that didn’t mean he wanted to run into the guy.  
Diagon Alley itself was actually quite busy: there were a number of witches with baskets on their arms going from shop to shop with small boxes.

  
“They take boxing day quite seriously in these parts, huh?”

  
“Not everyone—it’s mostly purebloods that follow the traditions, and not all of them. Those that do follow it usually make up a few goody boxes to hand out to shops they regularly patronize, or if a family member or members had seen a healer in the previous year, the hospital. Those who have house elves usually observe the day by allowing the house elf to make a list of supplies for the coming year plus something extra that they want but don’t need.”

  
“Oh? Like what?”

  
“Could be anything. When I was a kid there was one old house elf who asked for a little potted plant, there was another who asked for a fondue pot…we never had fondue, so I honestly don’t know what she did with the thing. Maybe she made fondue for herself, who knows?”

  
“Well, the house elves do all visit each other. Maybe she wanted to be a good hostess when they did.”

  
“Could be. Heh, that’d be something, wouldn’t it?”

  
“Here we are. I guess just wait in line. Glad it’s not too busy.”

  
“Next.”

  
“Hello. I just received this letter.” Harry explained, handing over the letter.

  
“Ah, one moment.”

  
The goblin called over his shoulder in gobbledygook There was some more shouting further back, and then the goblin turned back to face them. “Go with Griphook there. The security team will meet you down there.”

  
Harry, Sirius and Remus headed towards the goblin they could see waiting by the entrance to the underground tunnels. A cart sped up towards them and came to a stop by Griphook’s side.  
The four of them climbed in and took off like a shot.  
 

 

  
“So, Griphook, how are things?”

  
“They could be better. Your book made a lot of trouble for me.”

  
“It did? How?”

  
“The others have been giving me a hard time. They keep telling me I should change my name to "gets tricked by human children".

  
“Oh, sorry. We didn’t mean any offense, we just wanted a coherent explanation for why we had a boat sized for us when we’d just left the orphanage and had no money or anything.”

  
“What’s all this?”

  
“Griphook was the model for the goblin character we got our pirate ship from in our book. Didn’t you read it?”

  
“No, I didn’t, I’m sorry. I did flip through it.” Remus replied with some embarrassment. “So what happened?”

  
“After we all escape Mistress Jade's Dreadful Orphanage for Pathetic Orphans we sneak off to the docks because we decided we were going to sail away to look for someplace nicer. We run into Griphook who has a brand-new ship. We ask him what he wants for it, and he wants to know what we need with a ship. We tell him we’re pirates, so he offers to give it to us in exchange for our booty. We all have our baby booties, so I give him one of those. He already shook on the deal so he has to let us have the boat, because he never specified that he wanted pirate treasure, not a baby bootie.”

  
Sirius snickered and Remus groaned. “Oh, that’s a terrible joke!” he scolded. “What happened to Griphook’s character then?”

  
“Well, he takes over as manager of Pansy’s Fabulous Design Creations”

  
“Pansy’s what?”

  
“It’s a costume shop. It’s where we got our pirate gear from before going to the dock. We gave her a bootie too. After that he took over the Dreadful Orphanage.”

  
“What happened to Mistress Jade?”

  
“She got arrested and thrown into prison in the Citadel of Order.”

  
“Why?”

  
“Because the sign said it was a dreadful orphanage for pathetic orphans, but she didn’t have any because we all ran away. She got arrested for false advertising.”

  
Remus groaned again and laughed helplessly.

  
The cart came to a stop deep underground outside one of the numerous vaults that lined the tunnels. Several goblins were waiting nearby.

  
“This is Bella’s vault.” Sirius muttered darkly as he climbed from the cart.

  
Harry stared at the door for a moment and shook his head.

  
“Surely it can’t be that easy?”

  
“What can’t?” Sirius asked.

  
“I’ll tell you in a second…I’m not sure yet if I’m right, except that the timing would be about right.”

  
Harry handed Griphook his key and stood back while he turned it in the lock and then ran his finger down the crack.  
When the doors opened, Harry held up a hand to halt the goblins.

  
“Let me try something first. Accio Hufflepuff’s cup.”

  
Harry laughed disbelievingly when the small golden cup separated itself from the mounds of gold and treasure inside. “Unbelievable.” Harry snorted.

  
“Harry?”

  
“Just a sec.” he answered absently. He ran his wand over the cup and found the broken traces of the enchantments that had anchored the soul piece, which were already fading. He held the cup out to the goblins. “It was this. The enchantment on it unraveled last night. It doesn’t present any kind of security risk to the bank.”

  
One of the goblins from the security team took the cup and turned it around in his hands a few times inspecting it, and then licked the side. He drew back almost immediately and spit on the ground, and then began babbling at high-speed to the rest of the goblins in their own language.  
Griphook listened for a moment and then turned to Harry, his face grave.

  
“Do you know what this was, human?”

  
“I have a pretty good idea. I didn’t know it was in there.”

  
“How did you know it was undone?”

  
“I’ve already gathered the others. This is the second one I’ve caused to unravel.”

  
“Why did you not simply destroy it?”

  
“I think it’s better this way.” Harry explained as he took the cup back and slid it into his pouch. “He’s so very broken that there’s nothing left but hatred and a will to destroy. My hope is that if they’re all unraveled rather than destroyed he’ll simply pass over once it’s all done and cease to trouble the world.”

  
“It would be a more fitting punishment were it simply destroyed.” Griphook spat.

  
“You only think that because you don’t know what unraveling these things is like. I’ve only experienced the merest backlash, and I will admit with no shame that I’m already dreading the next. Believe me, he is suffering greatly for his crimes.”

  
“How do you experience anything?” one of the security goblins demanded suspiciously.

  
Harry sighed and knelt down, while lifting his fringe. The goblins all stared at the famous lightning-bolt scar for a moment, until one of them mustered up the will to reach forward and touch it. He drew his fingers back almost immediately, hissing while he did so.

  
“I hope you’ll understand if I ask you not to speak of this to anyone. People are still so afraid, even all these years later—I don’t relish my chance of surviving for very long should anyone learn about it.”

  
“You cannot mean to leave it there.”

  
“My mother left me some sort of protection when she died. I’m fine for the time being. I have to be the last—he’s too broken to be able to unravel the things on his own; there’s just not enough of him in one piece to make it possible.”

  
“You take foolish risks, human.”

  
“Not all battles are won with swords—and I seem to be winning so far.”

  
“How many are left?”

  
“Three more items, and myself.”

  
The goblins withdrew a short distance and spent several long minutes arguing in gobbledygook.  
At last, they seemed to reach some consensus, and returned.

  
“You will have our silence for the moment, Harry Potter. We will not speak of it outside the clan—we give you this consideration because you are kin to us. You will let us know how your battle fares. If you cannot win in the way you’ve chosen, you will bring those items remaining to us and we will see them destroyed. We will also look to see if there is some way to remove that one as well.” He jabbed a long finger at Harry’s forehead. “It is not a thing we’ve ever seen done before.”

  
“I’ve already accepted the possibility that it won’t be easily removed.” Harry replied, his voice quiet.

  
“Should we not find another way…we will give you a clean warrior’s death.”

  
Harry rose to his feet and bowed slightly to Griphook. “It would be my honor.”  
Griphook bowed back.

 

   
“Harry?”

  
Harry winced and turned to face his godfather and Remus, both of whom were staring at him with wide eyes and bloodless faces.

  
“Harry…what the hell IS GOING ON?!”

  
Sirius’ voice ended on a shriek and his hands clenched as though he were keeping himself from picking Harry up and fleeing from the bank and the goblins only by sheer force of will.

  
“Well…that’s kind of a long story.”

  
“When did you learn to speak gobbledygook?” Remus asked faintly.

  
“Um…say what?”

  
“Harry Potter was not speaking our language, human.”

  
“He wasn’t speaking English…about all I understood was that something happened to enchantments on that cup you summoned…and the goblins want to kill you.”

  
Harry looked at them perplexed and turned to Griphook to see if he had any ideas.

  
“Someone must have laid secrecy spells on the knowledge. It was not the dark lord—what you are would make you the secret keeper were that the case. The only logical candidate is Albus Dumbledore. It would explain many of the odd occurrences in his dealings with you…though why he would do this is a mystery. His foolishness only protects the enemy.”

  
“If he knew there was more than one, he might have been protecting me until I could be utilized to find the others…or he may have more nefarious reasons. I honestly couldn’t say one way or another.”

  
“Have you been locating the others at his urging?”

  
“No, he hasn’t said more than a few words to me since I rejoined the magical world—and those few words were usually to accuse me of murder or other wrongdoing.”  
Griphook glanced up at the scar and grunted. “Well, considering the circumstances, that would be a concern.”

  
“True…but he also never told me why, or mentioned anything about this situation.”

  
“Mmm.”

  
“The prophecy is real.”

  
“Sirius?" Harry asked, sounding bewildered.

  
“When your parents went into hiding, they told me Dumbledore told them there was a prophecy about the defeat of Voldemort. Dumbledore explained to them that while it was of course all bunk, Voldemort believed it and so for their own safety and yours that all of you, and the Longbottoms, needed to go into hiding.”

  
“What did the Longbottoms…Neville and Harry were born at the same time. Are you telling me the children were the targets, not the parents? What exactly did the prophecy say?” Remus asked.

  
“Dumbledore refused to tell them beyond the fact that it spoke of a child born at the end of July—however, based on what happened all those years ago, and what I’m guessing is going on now…it was a child destined to defeat Voldemort…and that defeat seems to be far more complicated than it should be.”

  
“Do you have further need of the vault?”

  
“Huh? Oh…well, I’ve never even looked in it before. I guess I might as well pop in real quick since I’m already down here—it’ll save me a later trip.”

  
Sirius and Remus let out a frustrated sigh when Harry disappeared into the vault. They wanted answers damn it.  
“Cool!” they heard Harry’s voice echoing out of the depths of the vault.

  
“Pup?”  
“Hang on!”

  
Harry came out about twenty minutes later and grinning ear to ear.

  
“Either your cousin or one of the Lestranges must have been a collector. There are some awesome swords in there!”

  
 Sirius and Remus just looked at him.

  
“What?”

  
“How can you be so flip? What about your life being in danger?”

  
“Psh. I can hardly spend every waking moment of every day worrying, now can I?”

  
“You’re going to be the death of me.”

  
“Don’t joke about stuff like that. Words have power.”

  
“Fine. You really annoy me sometimes. How the hell did you even find out about these…thingies, whatever they are, in the first place?”

  
“Oh, well that’s a long story.”

  
“The sooner you start talking, the sooner we’ll know.”

  
“Kreacher gave me one.”

  
“Kreacher? The house elf?”

  
“Yeah, him.”

  
“But…he’s been dead since last year!”

  
“Well I know that. I was there remember?”

  
“Where the hell did Kreacher get it?”

  
“Your brother gave it to him.”

  
“My…Regulus?”

  
“Did you have others?”

  
“Harry.”

  
“Yes, him.”

  
“Where’d he get it?”

  
“He retrieved it from the cave where it was hidden and died there. Kreacher was with him. He told him to leave him there, to make sure the locket was destroyed, and to tell no one in the family.”

  
“Alright…he couldn’t tell me or grandpa…why didn’t he give it to Barty?”

  
“Winky wouldn’t let him.”  
“Remus then.”  
“Winky wouldn’t let him.”

  
“Why the hell not?”

  
“She didn’t want Barty involved and possibly getting hurt since Mr. Crouch had just died. Kreacher was going to try Remus after he promised Winky he’d keep Barty out of things, but she said it was too great a risk—werewolves liked Voldemort, and so he couldn’t be certain Remus would actually let any of his stuff get broken. She told him to give it to me instead as I was the best choice.”

  
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us then?”

  
“Because I figured you’d go running to Dumbledore, and I didn’t trust him, so I wasn’t willing to get him involved in my business. I promised Kreacher I would see it destroyed, or if I couldn’t that I would find someone who could, so he could just rest in peace and stop worrying about it already. I had wanted to retrieve Regulus’ body, but Kreacher said the place was a hidden cave, with a lake inside filled with infieri and you had to drink poison---it sounded too dangerous, and I figured if I just went off with him and didn’t tell anyone and died, no one would ever know what happened…I figured, Regulus died to retrieve the thing—I could honor his sacrifice best by completing the mission he left with Kreacher. I didn’t know what it was, though I was making attempts to find out when I had a chance.”

  
Sirius covered his face as he tried to wrap his mind around the idea that Regulus, his little idiot brother, had died while off being secretly heroic, rather than just stupidly while being a murderous bigot like he’d always thought.

  
“Where is the cave?”

  
“I don’t know. Kreacher was so distraught after telling me his story…and he’d been burdened with his failure already for so long…I just didn’t feel right bringing it up.”

  
“Is it in England?” Griphook asked.

  
“I believe so, why?”

  
“We specialize in finding places like that…for a small fee of course.”

  
“The replacement locket is probably expensive and an antique. I don’t know about the container it and the poison are in.”

  
The goblins just looked at him.

  
Harry glanced into the vault to his left and swept his eyes over the contents.

  
“The armor…and the silver goblets with the Lestrange crest, plus the contents of the cave.”

  
The goblins conferred and then Griphook held out his hand. “Done.”

  
“Done” Harry agreed.

  
“We’ll let you know when we’ve concluded our business so you can identify and retrieve the body.”

 

  
   
They left Gringott’s not long after. The interrogation began the moment they stepped through the front door of Grimmauld place. The exact nature of the items was beyond their knowledge, but that didn’t mean they were able to learn quite a lot with some careful questioning. Both men refused to allow Harry to put them off or evade their questions, so he ended up telling them the whole story—the locket, the odd picture he’d made, finding the others and realizing they all had the same magical signature, accidentally invoking the remorse clause the first time and how he figured out what was going on, what he’d learned about Voldemort’s past through his interactions with the picture.

  
“That’s why you overslept. The backlash from the thing undoing itself hurt you. That’s what the sweating and headache were from. Why the hell didn’t you say anything about all this?”

  
“I already explained that—I didn’t want Dumbledore using it as an excuse to weasel his way back into my life. There’s also the fact that I really only just figured out what was going on myself.”

  
“It’s never simple with you, is it?”

  
“Look at it this way—at least it’s never boring.”

  
“We should try getting rid of the rest as soon as possible. I don’t like the idea of a goblin death sentence hanging over your head. If they think you’re taking too long…”

  
Harry’s hands clenched on his knees.

  
“Is it really that bad?”

  
“Yeah. It really is. I think if he wasn’t so very anchored to this plane that it would have killed him under normal circumstances. The second one was just as bad if not worse—even when just getting the backlash. It’s excruciating, and I’m completely wrung out afterwards.”

  
“The picture you mentioned, where is it?”

  
“Up in my room.”

  
“Let’s get started—the sooner this is over with and those things are gone, the better.”  
 

 

  
Sirius and Remus peered at the picture in interest as soon as Harry dug it out of his trunk.

  
“He’s a little kid.”

  
“That’s the piece in me. I think it’s his inner child.”

  
Kid-mort was seated at the table alone in the main chamber, chin resting on his folded hands and staring into space.

  
“What’s he doing?”

  
“Brooding. He’s wondering how his life went so wrong. He wanted to be safe, but instead he ends up being a wanted criminal. He wanted to be a teacher, instead his curse contributes to the decline of Hogwarts. He wanted family and a place to belong, instead he destroyed it. He wanted to be known and recognized and important and special, instead he changed his name, and then even that name ceased to be spoken. He had intelligence, charm, good looks, talent—and he became so disgusted by himself that he turned into a mindless, frightening, ugly, one-note boogeyman. He’s troubled, to say the least.”

  
“You said there were others, where are they?”

  
Harry flipped the picture over.

 

The teenager was dramatically sprawled across his bed looking tragic.

  
“What’s with him?”

  
“He’s being a teenager. He missed out on all the angst and drama when he was actually a teenager. He was wound pretty tight—super neat, model student and so on. He had a real malfunction about acting like the teenager he actually was. He couldn’t—he was afraid to. There were too many people with power over him, and he knew Dumbledore at least was watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to put a foot wrong. He told him before he ever came to Hogwarts that if he stepped out of line his wand would be snapped and he would be banished from magic at the very least, if not go to prison.

He took the warning to heart and lived his every moment in fear of losing everything. He worked hard to be perfect as he could manage, and worked hard to build a power base of his own to protect himself. This is the first time he’s ever just let himself just be. The only others around are all himself, and so he actually feels free to act out, because they don’t have power over him-- they are him and need him as part of their immortality.

He’s found he likes sprawling out on his bed and not worrying about making it the moment he wakes up, he likes leaving the clutter around his bed—it drives the kid and Diadem-mort nuts. He’s taken to strutting around and dressing like a slob, and leaving his hair loose, sleeping for hours and sprawling across the furniture, being sarcastic and daydreaming in classes. He’s rather relishing the freedom to not watch his every word and action at every moment of every day. It’s a new feeling for him.”  
   
“What’s that one doing?”

  
Diadem-mort was sitting in his classroom, behind his desk and staring out into space as well.

  
“He’s wondering whether he actually went mad and developed a split personality—he thinks Snakey-mort and Kid-mort are the two halves of himself and that he’s actually trapped in his own mind while the two halves of himself battle to be the only one left. He’s scared…wary of the kid. He doesn’t understand why his child-self is destroying the anchors and he’s trying to reason it out.” Harry replied after staring at the picture for a few moments.

  
“Hey, if his anchor is undone, will the DADA curse just be undone, or will it just be a free-floating curse that we can no longer get rid of?”

  
“I don’t know…if the anchor and curse are linked, one should be destroyed when the other is…if they’re separate…”

  
“Maybe we should work on that before trying to unravel the anchor.”

  
“Probably a good idea.”

  
Harry handed Sirius the picture and went to his parents’ trunk to retrieve the diadem.  
When he returned, he looked puzzled.

  
“What is it?”

  
“I think the curse is gone.”

  
“Gone?” Remus exclaimed. He ran his own scan over it and frowned in puzzlement. “It does seem to be gone…did you remove it?”

  
“No.”

  
“Well, someone had to.”

  
Harry took back the picture and concentrated on the kid for a moment. The kid roused himself from his brooding and went to the room where Diadem-mort was seated.  
   
Diadem-mort straightened warily when the kid came in the room. Remus and Sirius watched Harry watching the picture for a few moments in silence, but then Sirius got impatient. “Well? What’s going on?”

  
“Just a second…the kid asked about the curse and the other one admitted he did put a curse on the position. He applied for the DADA position when he graduated, but Dippet told him to go out into the world, gain some experience and come back when he was older. He took a job at Borgin and Burkes because they deal with a lot of cursed items and unusual magic. He applied for the job a second time years later… He went into the office expecting headmaster Dippet, but for some reason Dumbledore was the one waiting in the headmaster’s office to conduct his interview. He agreed he’d be a good teacher and would probably have lots of worthwhile things to teach, but that he’d decided he would never set foot in Hogwarts again so long as he lived. He told him he was going to curse the position…and Dumbledore told him he’d been expecting him to. He laid it down before leaving the castle. It will continue until he becomes teacher—which since Dumbledore is immortal, will be forever”

  
The kid stamped his foot and then began waving his arms around while ranting angrily at Diadem-mort, who looked rather taken aback by the kid’s fury.

  
“Wait, what? Dumbledore is immortal?” Sirius demanded.

  
“I don’t know, but he seems to think so. That belief seems to have fuelled his desire to be immortal to some extent. The kid is ripping him a new one about it—pointing out that he’d be the obvious suspect, and that he played right into Dumbledore’s hands—he couldn’t curse the position as it probably would have lost him his job. He also pointed out that his curse added to the general decline of Hogwarts and ruined it for everyone else.”

  
Harry sat back thoughtfully. “I think I know what happened. He set the condition that it would end when he became the DADA teacher, thinking that meant forever as this one is convinced Dumbledore is immortal and is sticking around spitefully to keep him out of Hogwarts just because he can. When he set up this classroom here, there was a moment where he just sat down behind the desk and basked for a bit. He thinks he’s in the Chamber of Secrets, and he thinks of the Chamber as being part of Hogwarts. He’s been living out his dream, and that ended the curse, though he didn’t realize it and it certainly hadn’t been his intention.”

  
“So that’s it? The curse is gone? Hogwarts will be able to have a regular DADA teacher from now on?”

  
“Looks that way—if there’s even anyone decent left to take the job. I’ve heard that Lockhart was the only applicant this last year, and that it’s been similarly slim in years past. It would be the height of irony if even getting rid of the curse doesn’t help because it went on for too long.”

  
“Augusta and Arcturus and Lucius will all be at the wedding, won’t they?” Remus asked thoughtfully.

  
“You’re thinking of being the DADA teacher? Moony! How could you! You’d be betraying the Marauder code by becoming a teacher!” Sirius moaned tragically.  
Remus just rolled his eyes while Harry laughed.  
 

  
Harry glanced back down at the picture and saw Diadem-mort and the kid were still talking.

  
“What’re they doing now?”

  
“Kid-mort is pissed off at how badly the whole immortality experiment seems to have come out. He wants to know how Diadem-mort was made.”

  
The two men leaned over the picture curiously.

  
“So? What happened?”

  
“He fled Britain after Hezibah Smith’s death and went to Albania.”

  
“Why Albania of all places?” Sirius wondered.

  
“The diadem.” Remus realized. “He went looking for it, didn’t he?”

  
“Got it in one. The only thing Helena told him was that it was hidden in a tree. He spent a couple of years wandering around northern Albania, which is heavily forested—also very mountainous. He met a man out there, a muggle, living in a shack, living just outside the area he was searching. The man lived alone and he was rather lonely. He would invite him in and share what he had when he would venture out of the forest for a bit to take a break. Once he found the diadem, he figured the guy would do as a sacrifice—he figured no one would miss him.”  
   
Harry could feel his horror at the act rise up in him, and he let it loose. The diadem version of Voldemort, for all that he seemed quite normal—calm and intelligent—represented his fall into true evil so far as Harry was concerned.

Up until that point the body count had been an accident or as the result of a psychotic episode. He had run from dwelling on the events too deeply, which of course showed a shocking lack of empathy and conscience, but they were still mostly forgivable acts for all that.

The premeditated murder of the Albanian peasant—a lonely man who had welcomed him into his home as a guest and shared what little he had—was a whole different kind of act. Harry could only suppose that the rapid loss of large swaths of his soul combined with having gotten away with the deaths of Myrtle, the Riddles, and Hezibah had left him rather blasé about leaving a trail of bodies everywhere he went. Whatever the cause, it was an evil act.

  
As always before, there was a delay between Harry’s initial horrified reaction to the story and Kid-mort reacting to it. Harry wondered if Voldemort had always lacked the capacity for empathy with others, or if that had only begun to happen after he started removing chunks of soul. His own guess was that it was the former—the only piece who seemed able to feel guilty was the piece connected to Harry. The kid’s face contorted and he hunched over looking frightened and ill.

  
The picture fell from Harry’s hand as the first backwash of pain tore across his scar.  
   
 

   
Harry smiled and greeted the latest guests to arrive before directing them to their seats. He saw Remus make as though to approach him, so he ducked out of sight.  
Sirius and Remus had been weird around him since he’d helped undo the diadem anchor. He didn’t quite understand what their problem was—he’d told them it was painful, excruciatingly so even just as backlash. For god’s sake—he’d already undone two completely alone before that, and he was fine. Yeah, he’d had a terrible headache, yeah he’d been sweating and wrung out, yeah he’d slept like a log for hours afterwards, but so what? This was deep, dark, scary magic they were dealing with—did they really think there wouldn’t be consequences to reversing something like that, even by proxy?

  
They’d even been all ready to march off to the goblins to plead with them to lift the death sentence hanging over his head. All he could say was thank goodness he’d woken in time to overhear that particular bit of idiocy. He had allowed them to talk to the goblins only after he’d stressed the importance of not just trying to back out—that kind of reckless behavior could very well have sparked another goblin rebellion, and he’d told them as much. The root of much of the tension between goblins and wizards was that they saw wizards as untrustworthy—a treaty would be made, and some stupid wizard would decide that as he hadn’t signed it, it didn’t bind him and he’d try to get out of following it, or the warlock’s council would try to change the rules it had agreed to play by, or after the warlock’s council had fallen and the Ministry rose in its place, they had tried to argue that the established treaties didn’t matter because they weren’t the same entity that had signed off on it—which was bunk from the goblin point of view as they were all still the same wizards.

  
Harry had willingly entered into an agreement that had been honorably offered. He wasn’t going to insult them by letting Sirius and Remus tell them it was all a big mistake and hey, you didn’t really mean it, right? That way lay badness. He had allowed them to qualify a date, as that part hadn’t been nailed down, but that was all. He had pointed out that he couldn’t realistically try undoing any more of the things while at Hogwarts, and so whichever ones remained would continue to remain until next summer at the very least. They had run off to do just that—had even managed to talk them around to giving him until midnight December 31st of next year—though they had only agreed to that once it was pointed out that just up and killing Harry could lead to trouble for the goblins, and that the things were safe and inactive and being held in a trunk sealed with Harry’s blood, inside a house layered in the protections his mother had given him that night. After conferring they had agreed that the things—which were apparently called horcrux of all things, were unlikely to be causing trouble from such a location.

  
 He had hoped they would relax once the ‘death sentence’ was staved off for so long—but they hadn’t, sadly. He was half-convinced that he’d still be ensconced in a big, comfy chair by the fire swaddled in blankets and not allowed to move if the wedding wasn’t taking place right there in the house. As it was, he’d barely had a chance to get into his dress robes before the first guests started arriving.

  
He hoped they got over it soon. He had a death sentence hanging over his head, and had to go through excruciating pain at least three more times before he’d be free of it—and if he wasn’t able to trigger anymore remorse clauses, the goblins would kill him and destroy those horcruxes that remained in order to protect the world.

  
He was hardly in a rush to die—far from it—but neither did he want to live the rest of his life with a mad shard of an evil wizard embedded in his head, nor did he want to see another war tear apart the wizarding community. When it came right down to it, there were worse reasons to die than to protect the world.

  
Maybe it was just because of the ninjas he’d dreamed about when he was little, but he was pretty calm about the whole thing— his "father" Shikaku had lived through war, had lived through the near destruction of their village by the rampage of the Kyuubi no Yoko—the nine-tailed demon fox. He had killed and nearly died more times than he could count, but, and all the rest of the ninjas in the village for that matter, were still able to get up in the morning, they were still able to function and enjoy their lives. If anything, they valued those normal everyday things that most people took for granted far more than most. They lived every day knowing it could be their last, knowing that they might watch a friend leave the village and never come back. Under those kinds of conditions you learned what was really important. Honestly, he thought the wizards as a whole could learn a lot from those guys.  
   
The steady flow of arriving guests was slowing down some; he guessed they’d be starting soon.

  
Grimmauld Place looked rather like a flower shop had exploded inside it—he’d teased Tonks earlier that they had probably completely denuded several small tropical islands and left the natives standing on a bare rock looking sad, and wondering where their island paradise had gone. She hadn’t appreciated it much.

  
Right now, she was sequestered away in one of the upstairs rooms being fussed over by her mother and bridesmaids—which seemed to include all the girls from her year in Hufflepuff. Barty had a matching set of groomsmen—his year from Slytherin house, and a few extra cousins, also Slytherins, to fill in for people who had died during the war.  
Frankly, Harry thought it would be a stone cold miracle if the wedding went off without a hitch; there was not only house rivalries among the older folks to contend with, but there were also several feuds of varying intensity among the guests—the Weasleys and Malfoys were simply the most vocal.

  
With magic involved it didn’t take months to plan a wedding—most of the decorations were whipped up on the spot, and the family house elves were doing all the catering. No, what had taken so long was constantly revising the seating chart for the ceremony and reception as the invitations were answered to try to limit the possibility of fights breaking out. Personally, Harry thought they were worrying about it too much—there were going to be any number of Aurors in attendance—frankly anyone who started trouble was an idiot.  
 

  
“Harry? What are you doing hiding in here? Come along, we’re going to be starting soon.”

  
He followed Adeline into the ballroom. They sat in the front row, across from the Tonks’, Malfoys, and Druella Black—they were taking the place Barty’s immediate family would have sat since his parents and grandparents were dead and his closest cousins were all in the wedding. Adeline snapped a picture of Barty waiting and looking nervous—he looked great, but then Harry had spiked his juice last night with a dribble of elixir of life, enough to take about five years off him. His stay in Azkaban and his time being held prisoner by his father had left their mark on him, though it hadn’t been as obvious as it had been with Sirius who had been in Azkaban the whole time.

  
Barty’s best man came in and nodded, so they both turned their attention to the back of the room, as did everyone else. The music began to play and the procession began. The groomsmen were all in grey, the bridesmaids in pink—no real surprise there. Ted was escorting Nymphadora in—which wasn’t usual in wizard weddings, but everyone had agreed it was probably for the best, if only to keep her from tripping down the aisle and falling on her face. Ted had wanted it too—he was muggleborn, for all intents and purposes, though his father had been a squib, so he could technically be termed a half-blood. Since they were doing a muggle-wizard fusion wedding, Nymphadora had gone with a muggle-style wedding dress as well, rather than wedding robes, and had her bridesmaids in muggle-style dresses that were full and billowy enough to not offend any old witches and wizards in the audience, while the groomsmen wore modern style dress robes with shirts and trousers beneath them. A few of the guests had also opted for muggle-style dress, though not many—most wore robes; some quite old-fashioned indeed among the oldest guests. He got the impression that many didn’t approve of the overtly muggle additions to the wedding—though he noticed many of those objections died on their lips when Tonks appeared on her father’s arm. Dressed in white, glittering with discreet sequins and glass beads on the bodice of her dress, she looked rather like a princess out of legend—and to judge by the gobsmacked look on Barty’s face when he first caught sight of her, he heartily approved.  
 

  
Harry glanced down at the ring he’d pulled from his pocket and slipped it on his finger unobtrusively. He still wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he did want to find out if the ring really was what he thought it was. He figured Barty would want his parents—well, his mother at least—at his wedding. True, he wouldn’t know they were there, but it was the thought that counted, right?

  
While everyone was watching the bride make her way down the aisle, Harry began turning the ring on his finger and thinking about Barty Crouch sr. and his wife Cassandra Crouch nee Yaxley.

  
He had to bite his lip for a moment to keep from making any sound when they appeared, standing in front of Sirius and Adeline.

  
“Oh! Look at our boy…so grown up and so handsome…but who is she, dear? She’s lovely, but I don’t recognize her.”

  
“She appears to be Andromeda Black’s daughter.”

  
“She’s the one who ran off with a muggle?”

  
“I believe he was a wizard.”

  
It was a little distracting, having them right there, but he kept his eyes on the ceremony and away from them to keep from drawing their attention—Sirius and Adeline couldn’t see them, so it didn’t distract them at all.  
The ceremony itself wasn’t very long—the officiate said some stuff and they made promises and whatnot, and then they joined hands—or wrists, rather. They held each other’s left wrists in a weird joining of hands and the official tapped his wand to them. A gold band bound their hands together and then they glowed gold—and Tonks suddenly looked a few inches shorter and plumper.

  
“Uh…”  
“It’s what she really looks like, remember? The spell made it show through. I didn’t know it would do that.” Adeline whispered back.  
“She’s probably going to be mad when she realizes.”  
“Hopefully not—she doesn’t really look any different after all, just shorter.”  
“And brown-haired.”  
“You figure her roommates probably already know. No real harm done. Quiet now.”  
 

  
   
“Harry! You’re already awake!”

  
“Yeah, so? I’m usually awake at this time.”

  
“You haven’t been lately.”

  
“I undid horcruxes…horcruxi? Three days in a row and it took its toll on me. I’ve been neglecting my exercises for all that time as well. I figured I’d best get on that before I lose my edge.”

  
“Maybe you should take it easy…”

  
Harry sighed and crossed his arms then glared at the two men.

  
“At the rate you’re going, it’s probably going to be a long, cold day in hell before I tell either of you anything of importance ever again. I can see I really should have gone with my first instincts and kept both of you out of the loop—it’s pretty obvious you can’t deal.”

  
Harry marched past them and seated himself at the table, just in time for breakfast to appear.

  
“Harry, be reasonable! You can’t deal with things like this on you own, you’re a child.”

  
“In case you haven’t noticed I was in fact dealing with this on my own quite successfully, it’s the two of you who are really bad at it. I had to force you both to drink calming draughts to keep you from looking at me like I was going to drop dead at any moment during the reception yesterday. People were starting to notice—Dumbledore sure as hell did---and who invited that guy anyway? I caught him watching me several times and trying to get into my head. The ballroom is big, but not that big—it was exhausting trying to keep away from him. Thankfully he finally gave up—although I suppose he just read your minds when I wasn’t looking.” He concluded scathingly.

  
“First of all, that’s enough of the attitude. Secondly, we both know occlumency, and would have noticed if he’d tried.”

  
“You’re going to have to deal with my attitude until you start acting like reasonable human beings again and stop acting like I’m going to drop dead in front of you at every given moment.”

  
Sirius sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.

  
“I suppose we have been overreacting somewhat”  
“Understatement.”

  
Sirius shot him a dirty look and continued “However, you didn’t see yourself—you were convulsing and your head split open and started gushing blood and then you just laid there, unconscious and pale as a ghost for hours.”

  
“I told you it was painful, I told you my scar bled, I told you it wiped me out—and it’s winter in England, we’re all pale as ghosts.”

  
“You’re not helping, kid.”

  
“Neither are you, that’s kind of the point. All either of you are doing is making everything harder.”

  
 Harry finished up his breakfast and rose from his seat.

  
“Well, I’m going out.”  
“The hell you are.”  
“Where do you think you’re going?”

  
“I’m heading back to Godric’s Hallow. I’m going to visit Bathilda Bagshot. She heard I was there a few days ago and didn’t drop by, also I wanted to run a project by her.”

  
“A project? What project?”

  
“Dark Magic: A History”

  
The two men both spluttered in horror.

  
“Dark magic! That’s it, we’re moving—it’s this house, I just know it, it makes everyone a crazy dark wizard.”

  
Harry sighed and crossed his arms and just looked at them.

  
“It’s episodes like that that make me think my proposed project is not only important but long overdue.”

  
“Explain yourself, now.”

  
“I have a better idea. Come with me, so I’ll only have to explain once.”

  
“I have a meeting with my publisher to go over my first draft of my book. How long is this likely to take?”

  
“I’m supposed to be meeting with grandpa later at the bank to go over some end of year business stuff.”

  
“You can always just leave.”

  
“Well, yes, I suppose I could.”  
“And leave you out wandering alone? Fat chance, kiddo.”

  
“I’m far from helpless, you know. I’d appreciate it if you could all stop acting like I am. If you both have to leave before I do, I can call the Knight bus and come back here on my own.”

  
“Nope. If I have to leave before you’re ready to, Oddment will bring you back here and sit on you until I return.”

  
“If I actually end up stuck here with Oddment sitting on me for some length of time because you think you’re funny, I won’t forgive you, I hope you realize this.”  
   
 

 

  
“Well, finally decided to come visit, did you?”

  
“I would have stopped by before, but I couldn’t. I got whisked away by a house elf.”

  
“Well, I suppose you can’t help something like that…I’ll forgive you this time. And what’s this? More guests…Sirius Black, getting married, I hear. I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

  
“I’ll put you on the guest list myself.”

  
“And you…you look familiar. Perhaps I met your father once?”

  
“Remus Lupin, ma’am.” He replied with a touch of embarrassment “I was a friend of James and Lily. We went to school together—in fact, Lily and I were prefects together.”

  
“Well, pleased to meet you. Come in, come in.”

  
“Oh, here, I brought presents.”

  
“Presents are always welcome. What have we got here?”

  
“Hot chocolate, chocolate liqueur and some chocolate topped biscuits.”

  
“Chocolate is always welcome, but what happened? Did you stumble upon a chocolate bush or something?”

  
“We have some chocolate trees—I forget what they’re actually called. Oddment and Winky harvested the pods some time ago and they’ve been making all sorts of chocolate stuff since then. We’ve got bars and bars and bars of the stuff in the larder.”

  
“Well, my good fortune then. Let’s try this stuff, shall we?”

  
“Yes please.” Remus agreed cheerfully.

  
“Don’t mind him, he’s a chocaholic. Oddment has to keep shooing him out of the kitchen so he doesn’t eat the chocolate supply.”

  
Bathilda summoned some cups and a vat of whipped cream from her kitchen, and soon they were all ensconced around the table with a generous cup of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream for Harry, and chocolate liqueur added for the adults.  
   
“So, boyo, what have you been up to lately?”

  
“Oh, this and that, nothing too interesting. I’ve mostly just been at school. Well, there was that whole thing with my house, and the wedding…”

  
“What did happen at your house anyway?”

  
Harry told the story, in between snagging chocolate biscuits to munch on—he had to be quick or Remus was likely to eat them all.

  
“Goodness, what is the world coming to these days?”

  
“If I could interrupt?” Sirius spoke up suddenly. “Why is the Peverell mark carved all over your table?”

  
Harry and Remus glanced over and found Sirius running his fingers over the Peverell mark, which had been scratched into the wood at some point. The mark was lightly excised, and had faded into the worn table top, but it could still clearly be seen from a certain angle.

  
“Oh, that. My nephew Gellert. He was obsessed with that symbol. It’s there, it’s on a couple of my end tables, and it’s all over the desk upstairs in what used to be his room. I’ve heard tell it’s on Nurmengard prison as well, on the gate beneath his motto ‘for the greater good’. Apparently it’s become known as ‘Grindlewald’s mark’ throughout continental Europe because of his obsession.”

  
“Uh…”

  
“Oh, didn’t I ever mention that? My nephew, well, several times great-nephew by marriage was Gellert Grindlewald, better known to most as the dark lord Grindlewald. He came to stay with me one summer after his parents died. There’s a picture of him over there.”

  
Sirius rose and went to the picture indicated, which was on top of a cabinet nearby and picked it up.

  
“Is that…Albus Dumbledore?”  
“What?” Remus demanded.

  
“Yes, it is. He was about, oh, seventeen there. Gellert was fifteen. The Dumbledores lived right next door you know. This is a small town, and there’s not much to do around here for boys that age. Albus had been all set to go on a grand tour of Europe, but his mother had just died, leaving him with two younger siblings to take care of, one of whom was apparently sickly.”

  
“Oh?”

  
“His sister, the youngest. I wouldn’t have even know she existed but for the fact that I saw her in the garden with her mother once. I assumed she was a squib and they were keeping her hidden. I suppose they didn’t want any more attention drawn to them. They came to this village to make a fresh start, after the father went to prison.”

  
“Dumbledore’s father went to prison?”

  
“Yes, the summer before Albus was due to start Hogwarts. He killed three muggle boys, got a life sentence.”

  
Sirius sat down heavily in his seat and passed the photograph to Remus, who took it and gaped at it in astonishment.

  
“Dumbledore’s father was a muggle-killer and he was childhood friends with the dark lord Grindlewald.” He repeated. “Lily wrote me a letter years ago telling me you told her that, but neither one of us believed you.”

  
“Psh! No one ever does. I don’t know why—Gellert was a sweet boy when he was that age, brilliant, cheerful and friendly. I don’t know what all happened to him in later years to make him like he became, but at the time Albus knew him he was a fine lad…or so I thought. He fled at the end of the summer. I still don’t properly know what happened. All I do know is that Ariana Dumbledore died, Gellert packed up his stuff and left—he would have been leaving soon anyway, as it was almost time for him to go back to school, but he left in a hurry. They held the girl’s funeral, and Aberforth Dumbledore attacked his brother, punched him and broke his nose. He blamed him for the girl’s death—Albus didn’t lift a hand to defend himself. Aberforth told his brother he wanted nothing more to do with him. He went back to Hogwarts not long after. Albus sold me their house, took half the proceeds and purchased the Hog’s Head to secure a future for Aberforth, and he took the other half and went on his grand tour like he’d originally planned.” She explained. “I didn’t know the family when they lived in Mold-on-the-Wold, so I don’t know if it was just the father’s imprisonment or if they’d always been that way—they were difficult people to get to know. Standoffish. They kept close to home, didn’t mix with the folks of the village—and like I said, I wouldn’t have even known there was a girl in the house had I not seen her walking in the garden with her mother that one time. I only saw her the once in all the years they lived here. Then Kendra ups and dies one day—she wasn’t ill, I can tell you that much. I had seen her just the day before and she was fine. By the end of the summer the girl was gone as well and the brothers feuding. I still don’t know what, if anything, Gellert had to do with any of it. A very strange family indeed; it was like talking to a stone wall sometimes.”

  
 “Well, knowing all that answers a question I always had.”

  
“Oh? What’s that?”

  
“How an English schoolteacher was able to essentially walk up to a dark lord who had recently conquered most of Europe and battle him. That always bothered me. A guy who just conquered most of Europe isn’t just going to be hanging out at his house reading a book. He’d have people giving him reports on how the war was going, he’d have guards…it never made sense to me how a schoolteacher could just flit off one afternoon, walk right up to the guy and take him out. If they were childhood friends it explains it—he had an in, which he took full advantage of, to Grindlewald’s detriment. Well, one mystery solved.”

  
“Oh, it goes further than that. You see, it was actually Albus’ idea in the first place—the whole conquering the world bit.”

  
“You go too far, madame. I realize the man was your nephew, but to blame his misdeeds on Dumbledore…!”

  
“He left behind the letters Albus wrote him. It was his idea. He spent most of the summer convincing him it was a good idea—he even gave him his slogan ‘for the greater good’. Albus reasoned that as they were smarter, stronger and just plain better than everyone else it was obviously in the best interest of the world if they ruled it. First step was to conquer the wizards, second step, use the conquered wizards to conquer the muggles and make them reaccept their place at the bottom, do away with secrecy and rule as god-kings over them. To this day I don’t know if they were in touch in all the intervening years. Did that man convince my great-nephew of this course of action and set up him to fail? Albus Dumbledore went from an unknown transfiguration teacher to leader of the international confederation of wizards practically overnight. I can only wonder, even now, if he planned it that way.”

  
   
Their little get-together broke up not long after that. Remus excused himself stiffly to go to his meeting with his publisher. He still seemed offended at Bagshot wondering if Dumbledore had set up the whole thing with Grindlewald.

  
“I should think it would be obvious what happened there. Dumbledore’s little sister was obviously Grindlewald’s first victim. His brother blamed him and he didn’t defend himself because the man had been his friend—he must have felt terribly about the whole thing! Even if he did hold such mad ideas in his youth, it’s obvious he outgrew it. When Grindlewald resurfaced he set out to meet him both to avenge his poor sister, and to assuage his own guilt at having inadvertently set the man on his path.”

  
He had left then after one last disapproving sneer Bagshot’s way. Remus was changeable as the moon about Dumbledore—he would get almost to the point where he’d accept that having the guy do all his thinking for him was probably not the best way to go through life, and then he’d do a 180 and go back to being the man’s biggest fan again.  
Sirius had been quieter and more thoughtful—a decade in Azkaban made him less prone to immediately falling back into the ‘cult of Dumbledore’ mindset, but even he didn’t seem convinced that he might have actually set Grindlewald on his path and then sat back waiting for a good opportunity to off him so he could ride the battle into international acclaim.  
He’d had to leave as well, but Harry was able to talk him into letting him stay. Both men had seemingly forgotten all about Harry’s project, which actually was fine with him.  
 

  
“Hey, have you thought of writing another book?”

  
“I’m pretty old, my boy. I don’t know if I have either the energy or the focus to start another book at my age.”

  
“What if you had help? Maybe just be the editor or something, or let one of the others be the editor and just write an article or two.”

  
“What did you have in mind, exactly?”

  
“Dark Magic: A history.”

  
“Dark magic you say? Why do you want me to get involved in a book about dark magic?”

  
“Because I think it’s important. You hear people throw around the term a lot. Dark this, dark that. One day I asked what it was exactly. What made dark magic different from other magic, or was it actually? You know what I discovered? People don’t actually know—at least, that’s the impression I get. They seem to use the term to mean anything they don’t like, they don’t understand, as a way to control you…lots of reasons, really. If you show too much interest in it, by which I mean asking a question about what it is, people get hysterical, or they look at you suspiciously, or they start ranting at you. I did do a very quick skim of the legal definitions—you know what? There isn’t one. There’s illegal magic, magic that’s restricted, but there’s no actual legal definition of ‘dark magic’—even though the hitwizard and Auror corps are commonly thought of as anti-dark-wizard squads. Once I realized that the general public seemed pretty uniformed, and there was no legal definition, I realized that a book like this was actually important. Think about how words change over time, or how meanings drift when words are translated from one language to another. In just that one way it would be easy for a lot of confusion to ensue. I was talking about my idea with Arcturus Black last night at the wedding. He thought it was a good idea, and he said he knew some folks who’d probably be interested in working on it. I was thinking a multi-attack approach—linguistic changes, historical changes, legal changes, cultural changes. Really nail down what it is and what it means and whether or not it’s in any way like muggle drugs and makes you crazy, desperate and dependant. I figure once it’s done, I can read it and then I’ll finally have my answer.”

  
“Your words intrigue me…tell me more.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fair, a nightclub, a wedding, and a near-death experience.

“Well, back to school already.”

“I know…the time sure flies. When you see me again we’ll be getting ready for your wedding.”

“Don’t remind me. Adeline has already begun to mutate.”

“Mutate?”

“Into a bride—and believe me kiddo, a bride is a whole different animal from a regular woman. Brides think stuff like dress colors and what kind of flowers you decorate with are of earthshaking importance. It’s actually a frightening metamorphosis to watch, but sadly it seems to happen to all women, even the sensible ones. Why, I can’t count the number of times your dad showed up at my place in the middle of the night, frightened and shaking and looking for a place to hide.  
“Padfoot” he’d tell me, while the tears rolled down his cheeks “I just spent two hours being grilled over whether or not we should have crab puffs or shrimp cocktails for the appetizer. I told her I’m allergic to shellfish and she told me I didn’t love her. You have to hide me, man!” Sirius sighed and shook his head, his eyes haunted. “Someday it’ll happen to you too.”

“So, my dad was allergic to shellfish, huh?”

“You’re a cold and heartless man, aren’t you. Not an ounce of pity in your soul.” 

“Well, dress colors and flowers are important—you want the wedding pictures to look nice. I don’t know what you’re complaining about. In fact, next time she brings up the subject, tell her that after thinking about it, you think tangerine would be a good color for all the bridesmaids, and that it could be worked into the flower arrangements by utilizing things like tiger-lilies, which are more orange than tangerine, but she’ll forgive you because you’ve obviously been thinking about it, and couldn’t really be expected to understand subtleties like color since you’re only a man. Geez, even I know that.” 

“I really hate you sometimes kiddo.”

“That’s not hate, that’s your bowels being all aquiver at my sheer awesomeness.”

“You’re gay, aren’t you? Only a gay man would ever have said that.”

“I asked the girls at the Ministry party for suggestions. Barty had horror stories about Jade’s metamorphosis.”

“Her name is Nymphadora.”

“Whatever. My point is that here I am, watching your back, giving you examples on how to survive Adeline’s bridezilla rampage…”

“There’s the train.”  
“I feel so loved.”   
 

After saying his goodbyes to Sirius, he boarded the train and went in search of familiar faces. 

“So, Mr. Bonham, how is wizarding Britain’s newest, most eligible bachelor these day?”

“Blimey, don’t remind me. You wouldn’t believe the number of folks who work at the hospital came at me at that party and said ‘oh, what a coincidence, I have a daughter just about your age, and then practically flung them at me! I mean, bloody hell, one of the girls was like, eight! I think I preferred being plain, old Dean Thomas.”

Harry and the others noticed Ron was starting to get thunderclouds gathering in his face—his usual reaction to hearing of the prosperity of others, so they all hit him with a cheering charm. 

“Um, is he supposed to be giggling and drooling like that?”

“We might have overdone it a bit. Ah, he’ll be fine.” 

“So, exploding snap anyone?”

“Yeah, deal me in.”

“Me too.”  
   
 

The first day of the new term at Hogwarts was cold and bleak. The sky was dark and rumbling with the threat of rain, but it held off till nightfall, much to the delight of everyone who had Herbology that day.   
The kids gathered in the Melting Pot after classes and found pitchers of hot chocolate waiting for them—a welcome treat in the chill, damp confines of the dungeons.

“How was everyone’s first day back?”

“You know, same old same old, though the professors seem to have pulled out all the stops for some reason. Usually we’d go over one charm per class—today we got a list of charms we’re expected to be able to demonstrate later in the week.”

“Transfiguration was like that too. Professor McGonagall demonstrated, and then had us practice a bit, then gave us a list of similar transfigurations we’re supposed to have mastered for next class.” 

“We got tests--they were huge and took us the whole class period to finish each one.” Marietta Edgecomb complained. 

“And what’s more they said it wasn’t going to be graded!” Alice Whittaker, another Ravenclaw 3rd year added, sounding aggrieved.

“Not graded?!” Hermione squeaked, sounding equally horrified. “How awful! Why would they give you a test but not grade it?”

Harry and Neville both opened their mouths to answer, but Draco beat them to it.

“I know” he bragged. “They’re testing to see if you can reasonably be expected to take your OWLs next year rather than fifth year.”

The room exploded into pandemonium as several of the third years kids panicked and one or two even began hyperventilating.  
Neville rolled his eyes and drew his wand, which he pointed at the ceiling before making a large ‘BANG’  
Several of the kids screamed.

“Quiet down everyone!” 

Little by little order was restored, and everyone sat quietly waiting for them to explain.

“First of all, relax—they just want to see if you’re on the mark to do so, if you’re not, you’ll take them fifth year as expected.”

“But why are they doing this?”

“Barty Crouch Sr. had started taking steps to change our curriculum to be more in line with continental standards over the rest of Europe. The other big European schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are both on a four-three system, while we’re the oddball with our five-two system. He realized there was beginning to be a gap, one that would probably only grow larger as the years went on. They just cover more stuff in seven years than we do. Now, granted, quantity doesn’t mean quality, but we would be at a disadvantage by simply not being exposed to as much, and they have an extra year of advanced study. He had only just begun to make some tentative changes when he committed suicide.”

Neville picked up the explanation.

“The Board of Education, the Board of Governors and the Faculty of Hogwarts had a big meeting during the break to discuss going through with the changeover. The original plan was to begin with the incoming first years next year and put them on the new system, while everyone else stayed on the old. The idea was that in seven years the changeover would be complete and Hogwarts would just be on the four/three system from that point onward.”

“However, because the teachers got to visit us here and see some of what we’ve been getting up to on our own time, they apparently argued that they might be able to just put all of us here at the Melting Pot on the new system, which would leave only four years of changeover rather than seven. Just relax. They’re not going to force the issue if they don’t think you guys can realistically take your OWLs next year and do well—as well as you would if you took them fifth year. Obviously they would like to keep this somewhat hush-hush—one cannot imagine all the fourth and fifth years are going to be at all pleased with this idea.” 

“Not just them—the sixth and seventh years too. I imagine Percy’ll be having fits about it. He’s so bloody proud of his twelve OWLs—he’s gonna feel like they’re not worth as much.” Ron pointed out.

“I’m guessing the teachers have decided to start pushing us first and second years so we’ll be on board when we reach fourth year, that’s why we’re being given lists to practice on our own time. The only way they can really get everyone in line for the new curriculum is to put more of the responsibility on the individual student, rather than doing just one charm or transfiguration a week and keeping at it till everyone has gotten during class time.”

“We haven’t had charms yet. What was on the list?” Hermione demanded of Susan Bones. “I don’t intend to fall behind.” 

“I don’t think any of us is behind, that’s the whole point.” Neville sighed. “So don’t go getting yourself worked up about it.”

 “Instead of getting frazzled and dismayed over this whole curriculum change, let’s talk about something else. Until your assessment tests come back, we don’t even know for sure if you’re going to have to worry about it anyway. I was thinking we could have a long term contest. Draco came up with an interesting idea over break. Draco, why don’t you tell everyone what you’ve been doing?” 

Draco stood and puffed his chest out proudly.

“I’ve been building a miniature house. I figure I can practice the skills I’d need to make a house, but on a small scale. If I ever need to build a house, I’ll be able to do it, I’ll just have to make everything larger. I was even thinking I can ward it up and all when I’m done putting it all together.”

“So…you what, want everyone to make a little house?”

“Only if you want to.”

“What kind of house?”

“Whatever you want—it’s your house. If you want a cottage with a thatched roof, make that. If you want a manor house or a keep, or a bungalow or a mansion or whatever, that’s what you build, or try to anyway. That’s kind of the point. We can show them off to each other during the week after exams, which will give everyone six months to figure out what you want to do and try to get it done. There are empty dungeon rooms all over down here ready to be commandeered for such uses if you want to keep what you’re doing secret. You can make it as plain or as fancy as you like, or can manage. If you want to be able to show off the interior, remember to either leave off the back, or make it able to be opened up. We can tell the teachers what we’re doing, and they can judge them at the end of the year on whatever criteria they choose…or we could just leave out the contest part and just do it for fun and education, whichever you like.”

“Are you going to build a house?”

“Yep.” 

“What’s the point though? You can’t just go around putting up houses willy-nilly wherever you please! There are laws against that, and what if muggles saw?” Hermione groused.

“If you don’t want to be involved then don’t be. So, anyone interested?”

“You’re not listening to me! I just said there are laws against that sort of thing!”

“Muggle laws. What’d we care about that? So long as secrecy is maintained and no muggles are damaged, any open space is fair game, so far as I’m concerned.” Ron scoffed, sounding indifferent.

Hermione huffed and stomped off and flopped down into a chair in the corner, arms crossed and pouting. She cast wounded, martyred looks their way every so often; she was mostly ignored.   
Harry wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’d made a house anyway, even with all her bitching. She couldn’t resist a possible pat on the head from authority figures, loved a chance to show off her knowledge, and tended to discourage possible competition whenever possible. He was fully expecting to see an entry from her—probably a very symmetrical, very precise muggle house with no hint of magic in its look or construction. 

 Those kids who decided to take part scattered throughout the dungeons and found empty rooms to clean and ward up to use as workrooms, but that was all. It was only the first full day of classes and everyone was already being weighed down by work. If it became a trend, they were going to need to use their free time for homework, rather than hanging out with friends like they’d been doing. 

When Harry and the others returned, they found small groups scattered throughout the many rooms, practicing charms and transfigurations, while others were making question and answer cards for the new stuff to add to interrogation. 

“Good thinking. Best to keep on top of that sort of thing.”   
   
   
   
   
“Is it just me, mate, or did this year fly by?”

“Not so much the whole year, mostly just this term, but yeah.”

“Last exam done, and now we’ve got the next two weeks to ourselves. I don’t mind admitting I need it. I’m completely knackered.” Neville sighed.

“I know what you mean, mate, you and me both. The teachers were really riding our asses all year, weren’t they? New spells lists every week, random quizzes in potions. Herbology has been strangely relaxing though.” Dean agreed.

“It’s the curriculum change. The different classes were reordered so there was more cross-over between them. Professor Sprout was supposed to keep pre-OWL herbology to plants used in the potions we’d be expected to be making all year, common garden plants, things we could expect to find growing wild throughout Britain and the most common security-use plants. The thing is, she’s kinda like Hagrid was, but with plants. The more exotic and dangerous, the more she likes them. Apparently a lot of the stuff we’ve been dealing with before the changeover is actually considered NEWT-level stuff by most other schools.”

“I have to say, the change is fine by me. I don’t exactly have a green thumb, and I usually felt like I was within inches of losing a limb, or at least a finger, most classes.” Seamus laughed.

“While I often found battling the various plants she unloaded on us sort of interesting, I have to admit I feel kind of the same; the stuff on the new curriculum will be more use to any folks who aren’t planning to make a career of herbology.” Harry agreed.

“I’m kinda bored, actually. I sort of miss all the dangerous plants.” Neville pouted.

“I guess you would be; you already know your way around most of the stuff we’ve been covering, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I’ve been helping in the greenhouses we have at home since I was little. I already know most of what we’ve been covering so far this last term.”

“So just look at it as a relaxing hour and go with it mate. You’ll be back battling man-eating monstrosities with teeth, claws and tentacles before you know it.” Seamus assured him.

“Where to now? Melting Pot?” Ron wondered.

“Nah, let’s head outside. The weather is nice, the sun is shining; it would be a shame to waste it by hanging out down in the dungeons.”   
 

 

Most of the other students had apparently had much the same idea; the lawn was littered with students lazing on the grass, a few flying or playing Frisbee—there was even a football game in progress, albeit a very informal one.

“Whoa, brilliant! I didn’t know there were other footie fans in the school—all anyone ever talks about is quidditch.” Dean exclaimed happily. “Later mates, I’m gonna go join in.”

“That’s the game you got all the weird non-moving posters of, innit?” Ron questioned. “I still say it looks pretty lame, mate, sorry. Kicking around a little ball’s got nothing on quidditch—quidditch takes actual skill, you know.”

“Prepared to back up your words?”

“What are you on about?”

“If it’s so easy, join in. Let’s see how skilled you are.” 

Ron snorted and shook his head. “I don’t see any skill out there. This’ll be easy.” 

“Do you know anything about the game at all?”

“What’s to know? Run around, kick the ball.” 

Dean smacked the back of his head as they set off towards the game, and then tried to give him a brief rundown of the rules and team structure. 

“I guess I’ll join in too. Either of you game?”

“I think I’ll go flying.” Harry replied. He had bad memories associated with football—he was always picked last for team sports at school when he was a kid. It wasn’t even because he wasn’t any good—he was actually a pretty good player—it was because it was understood, anyone who picked Harry was getting an ass-kicking after school, and then Dudley and his gang would make their lives miserable from then on. That was bad enough--always being picked last, having the other kids stand a couple of feet away from him just in case Dudley got the idea they liked him or something. No, the worst part was what came next: Dudley and his gang would spend the game ramming Harry or trying to hit him with the ball, or knocking him down into the dirt and grinding his face into it. He was usually bruised, winded and filthy by the time the game was over, and then he’d get in trouble with the teachers on top of everything else for getting so dirty, and the teacher would complain to his aunt, and then he’d get in trouble with uncle Vernon when he got home. As a result of those experiences, he had a rather dim view of football—which was something of a hindrance in a country as football-mad as England. Muggles got as offended by a person that didn’t like football as wizards did by a person who didn’t care for quidditch. 

 Harry said goodbye to his friends and withdrew his broom. He spent awhile racing across the surface of the lake, and then doing dives and barrel-rolls in the sky for a bit, before slowing down and just making lazy circuits of the grounds. 

The year really had flown by after they’d gotten back from Christmas break; all their classes had gone into high gear and they’d all been kept too busy to really do much beyond work on school work while in the Melting Pot—it had gone from being their secret clubhouse and place to socialize to being a group study-hall. The clubs had still met and still gotten some stuff done, but not nearly as much as they had in the beginning of the year. On the one hand, having classes be more intensive and cover more stuff was good. On the other hand, it had really eaten into their free time—a lot.

The school year was now over, the last of their exams were finished, the third years were beginning to panic about next year already. It had been made official, the current third-years would be taking OWLs the following year, and all the classes following them were officially on the four/three system as well. 

Harry wasn’t panicking yet, but even he had to admit it was going to be rather daunting to take the tests a year earlier than he’d been expecting. The current first years were lucky, they’d be starting electives next year, and so would have three years of classes before testing, just like in years past. The current third years were being given the option of testing for their electives OWLs the year after next along with Harry’s class, and Harry’s class would be testing for their electives along with the current first years in their fifth year. It wasn’t a very elegant solution, but no one felt it was fair to expect the students to test with a year’s fewer classes than usual. Luna and Colin’s class were the lucky ones; they’d be able to get them all over with in one fell swoop and be done.

They had the next two weeks free, and then it would be back home for the summer. 

Part of Harry was looking forward to it—after all, fun, sun, days free to do as he pleased—what’s not to like?   
Unfortunately, it also meant working with the remaining horcruxes. He wasn’t looking forward to that.   
He deliberately put those worries out of his mind and continued making lazy circles in the air.   
   
 

 

“What’s going on? What’s with all the tables?” Fred asked.

“They’re for our houses we made.” Ron answered.

“Who made?” George this time.

“The first, second and third years—though it’s not everyone, just whoever wanted to.” Ginny added.

“Why didn’t we hear about this before?”

“You’re both fifth years, and Percy’s a seventh year.”

“Yeah, but you two are our brother and sister.” Fred pointed out. 

“It was something we came up with while we were hanging out one day. It was actually Draco Malfoy’s idea. He started making a house during Christmas break. It was still pretty rough when I saw it. I’m looking forward to seeing what he managed with six months to work on it.” Neville explained.

“Mine’s brilliant. I bet I’ll win for sure.” Ron bragged.

“No way. I’m going to win!” Ginny argued.

“I thought we all agreed to leave out the contest part?” Harry sighed.

“No, remember? There was a second vote—you might have been in detention with Snape that day.” Ron disagreed.

“So there’s a contest? What are the categories?” George wondered.

“I don’t know, the teachers took care of that.”

They saw some of the kids trooping out of the dungeons with their houses floating along in front of them. 

“I guess we’re supposed to get set up then?” Harry wondered.  
“I guess.” Neville agreed.

“I still say I’m gonna win. You’ll freak when you see my house, mate, it’s bloody brilliant.”

“Ha! My house is going to be the show stopper!” Draco Malfoy scoffed. His house was floating along behind him, but it, and the others, were covered with a cloth so they couldn’t be seen. 

All the activity in the courtyard was starting to draw the notice of the rest of the student body, who had begun to congregate around the edges of the tables.

“What’s going on?”  
“The midgets made doll houses.”  
“Why’d they go and do a mad thing like that?”  
“Uh, mate? Half the midgets out there are boys. Do all the ickle boys like playing with dollies then?”  
“Did you ever hear the saying ‘better to keep your mouth shut and be thought an idiot than to open it and remove all doubt?” Harry called out.  
“Huh?”  
“Exactly.”   
The boy stared at him for a count of three. “Hey! You little…”  
The others standing nearby starting laughing. 

More and more of the tables were filling up as the youngest students brought forth their contributions and found space to set up. 

“Why did all you midgets go and make doll houses for anyway?”

“They’re not doll houses, they’re fully functional houses, that just happen to be openable so you can see inside. Now that we know how to make a house, in theory we can do it for real, it just all has to be bigger. We’re trying to maximize our education here.”

“Yeah. It’s been rather challenging—not just building the house itself, but making a working bathroom, floo and kitchen, warding it up, transfiguring stuff into trees and flowers to build the garden…it was a lot of work.” 

The older students were staring at him with blank incomprehension.

“Uh, Harry? I think we broke them.”

“So we did. Wow, talk about fragile. I guess we should go get our houses and get set up before all the good spots are taken.”  
   
Elsewhere, another table was being set up, by more younger students.

“What’re you lot doing?”  
“Selling books, what does it look like?”  
“What kind of books?”  
“Helpful guides to building houses, installing plumbing, basic warding and secrecy-friendly charms. We have a catalogue. We’ve only printed a few of each; once those sell out you’ll have to pre-order and wait for them to be printed—though we guarantee you’ll get them before school’s out for the summer.” 

The girl looked at the little boy, somewhat bemused and tried to open one of the books to flip through it.  
“It doesn’t open.”  
“Of course not, you haven’t bought it. We’re not giving away freebies here, lady.”   
   
Not far away, the art club was setting out examples of their work, and the cunning artificers were setting out examples of things they’d made based on stuff they’d repaired earlier in the year or in the year prior—it was mostly music boxes, but everyone had to start somewhere. Out on the lawn games were being set up, as were small tents where you could watch one of several puppet shows—all for a small fee. The Melting Pot kids were trying to raise money for their club supplies for the following year. 

Just inside the doorway leading out to the courtyard another booth was being set up with samples of wine and cheese made by students—small pieces, and tiny wineglasses that held just a few sips--underage students got grape juice.

The older students looked around at the carnival fair that had seemingly just sprung up around them with bemusement—none of them had known anything about it. It was an odd, though nice, surprise—or it was, until they realized it was universally the youngest students running everything.   
   
   
The older kids spread out among the tables, curious to see what the kids had made. 

“So? Let’s see it then.” 

Ron puffed up his chest and whipped off the cloth covering his entry. Several of the kids reared back, but the twins just laughed.

“It burns, it burns.” Ginny scoffed.

“What?”

“Ron…your house…mansion…is orange. It’s bright, eye-searing, can be seen for miles orange.” Percy explained. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“What’s wrong with it? I think it’s beautiful!” Ron growled, while hovering protectively over his house. “You haven’t seen the inside yet! You’ll change your tune then!”

He lifted away the back panel of the house so everyone could see inside.

“Ron…you’ve got a quidditch pitch in your house.”

“Yeah, for use during bad weather, and parties. I plan to have another in the back yard.” He replied proudly. 

Ron’s mansion was not only orange, it was a mix of different styles and materials—it was also rather grandiose, as though during construction he thought to himself _‘well, marble pillars and a verandah are nice, but it’d be even better if there were also towers and crenellations, and balconies and recessed eaves and a courtyard with a fountain and a breezeway and some other stuff I don’t have names for….yeah, that’d be cool’_

Inside, everything was made of marble, or draped in silk and velvet. His bed seemed to take up most of a (large) room by itself, and was layered in pillows and hung about with silky draperies like it was the room of a decadent sultan with a large harem. Beside the indoor quidditch pitch, there was also an indoor pool, a gargantuan kitchen… and everything was covered in gold and jewels. 

“Wow, Ron… I don’t even have words…” Percy croaked.  
Ron puffed up his chest in pride once more. “I know…beautiful, innit?”   
 

The houses ran the gamut of the children’s tastes and creativity—there were simple houses, intended for simple living: cottages with thatched roofs, sod roofs, houses with sod roofs that were built partly underground or into a hillside—Neville had one like that. His ‘house’ was more garden than anything. “I built it into the hill there so I’d have more room for my garden and greenhouses—the house kept getting in the way.” He’d explained.  
His house made Harry think of a book he’d read once ‘ The Hobbit’—it looked rather like he imagined a hobbit’s house would look like. 

There were houses that were slightly more elaborate—larger houses meant to house a family with two or three children plus pets, then there were the ‘fancy’ houses—keeps, castles, mansions—every type of grandiose house you could imagine, at least one kid had made an attempt to build it. 

Draco Malfoy’s much-bragged about house was an eerie twin to Ron’s—not exactly, the order they’d added features were different, and Malfoy’s house was white not orange—but they were definitely cut from the same cloth, much to their mutual dismay. 

Ginny Weasley’s house was actually a replica of Harry’s keep, but done in red and gold, and with a few extra towers and additions growing out of the base—apparently so her family would have someplace to stay, as would her many children. The garden had been transformed into a full sized quidditch-pitch, also in red and gold. 

Harry had just sighed when he saw it, drew his wand to change the Peverell mark, which she’d left on the gate, into a frowny face, and then kept walking. 

Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson had both made houses that looked like giant house-shaped cupcakes. Lavender’s was light purple with white edging, star-shaped windows, and white shutters. Pansy’s was pink with heart-shaped windows. 

There were castles with onion-shaped domes done in bright colors, Roman villas, a pyramid, a Doctor Who type police box with expanded interior, a house that looked like a tumble of boulders, a castle that looked like Disney’s magic kingdom, one made of bamboo and leaves with a hammock out front, one that looked like a hollowed-out iceberg…as many ideas as there were children. Hermione’s entry—she had in fact gone ahead and made one in spite of her complaints--was a simple Georgian townhouse of brown brick. There were no oddly shaped windows, or strange colors; it was all straight lines, and symmetry—it was so obviously out of place amidst all the fanciful, colorful creations that surrounded it, that it ended up being strangely exotic because of how utterly mundane it was.   
Harry’s own contribution—a traditional Japanese-style house and garden, garnered some approving comments, though many couldn’t understand why anyone would want walls made of paper, even if they did look kind of pretty.   
 

“AHHH!”   
“What the heck?”  
“Damn…what is with everyone? That’s like, the tenth house that just fell apart after the teachers cast a ‘finite incantatum’ on it! Didn’t it occur to any of them that maybe having your house held together by nothing but magic was probably a bad idea?”  
“What were we supposed to do? Spello-tape it together?” Ron grumbled, while casting a mournful look at the pile of rubble and miscellaneous trash that used to be his orange mansion.

The tables, which had been filled with beautiful, imaginative creations earlier in the day were now sporting rubble/trash heaps every few feet. A lot of kids hadn’t considered the possibility of someone cancelling the spells on the houses.

“I guess it’s really a good thing we did things this way, rather than having everyone just try building a full-sized house to live in. How many people would have been killed by accident?”

“I’m gonna have to ask dad how the bloody hell he keeps the Burrow from falling apart. I obviously missed something.” 

He wandered over to where the others whose houses had been destroyed were gathered to commiserate with them, as Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had just screamed, came and joined them.  
   
“Tough luck there, Justin. It’s a shame all your hard work just got ruined like that.”

“Yours too… and yes, that was difficult, especially as I was hoping to show my parents it when I got home. I figured there was no harm, as it was just a model, and it’s wasn’t like anyone would be living in it. I should have realized—the whole point was to make a house you could actually live in, wasn’t it? It’s my own fault for not properly following the rules, I suppose. Ah well, even though I used magic as a shortcut, I did learn a lot about building. I shall have to see if I can do it the regular way this summer.”

“Geez, look at her!” she’s such a suck-up!” Pansy Parkinson muttered from nearby. “She looks like a puppy waiting to be scratched behind the ears—all that’s missing is the wagging tail.” 

Hermione’s house was up for judging, and she was indeed preening under the combined attention of the heads of house and the headmaster. 

Professor Snape raised his wand to perform the ‘finite incantatum’ test, but Dumbledore just twinkled as assured him it wasn’t necessary—Hermione was muggleborn, after all.  
“So’s Finch-Fletchley” Snape reminded him. Hermione’s preening face went white, and her house crumbled like many others. Professor McGonagall sniffed and gave Hermione a dirty look—the same look she’d given to every Gryffindor who had failed this first, basic test; she didn’t like the students making her house, and by extension her, look bad.   
Snape grinned just a bit and put a big, fat ‘x’ next to Hermione’s name on his clipboard. “Tut, tut, Miss Granger. Better luck next time.” 

Hermione burst into tears and ran away. The other kids whose work had been similarly undone just rolled their eyes and gave her a dirty look as well.   
   
Everyone who was left after the teachers made their rounds—about half the entries—got a shiny ribbon in their house colors that said ‘Good Job!’ on the button and 1st annual Hogwarts House-building contest on the trailing ribbon below. 

“It’s going to be an annual contest?” Percy asked curiously. 

“Is it going to be restricted to all the ickle kiddies?” Fred wondered.

“I doubt it, I don’t think the teachers would forbid it—though I’m going to guess that a lot of older students won’t bother to try unless they know a lot of other older kids are going to be entering too. I doubt anyone wants to be the only older kid in a contest filled with underclassmen—and think about it, you all will get the benefit of our experience. First rule: don’t make the whole thing with magic!” 

Percy nodded distractedly, and wandered over towards a group of Ravenclaws—one of whom greeted him very enthusiastically—Harry had a feeling that whole group was going to be spending the remaining two weeks of school ensconced in the library and making plans for their entries next year. He was prepared to be impressed—after all, the older kids had something to prove now. Fred and George were eyeing the table that was selling books and talking about setting up a booth to sell the prank items they’d apparently been making…he could see other older students in small groups talking earnestly with one another as well. Harry couldn’t be more pleased.

“Looks like ‘Hogwarts: Renaissance Phase I’ is a go, boss.” Vincent Crabbe whispered in Harry’s ear. 

“Yeah, the older kids are itching to prove themselves. I think we really shook their faith in the order of the universe. Next year’s fair should be something else.” Gregory Goyle whispered near his other ear. 

“So, what’s Phase II going to be, anyway?” Neville wondered. 

“I don’t know—I’m working on it. If any of you guys have any ideas, feel free to bring them up at the planning committee meeting in September.”

“Will do.” 

“So, about the meeting tonight…who all’s coming?” Harry wondered. "Draco is a given, we convinced Blaise after explaining, Theo, Pansy, Millie.”  
“Then there’s Dean, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot and the Patils.” Vince counted off.  
“Who else? Oh, Ernie MacMillan, Finch-Fletchley, Smith, Corner, and of course the four of us. That should be enough, don’t you think?” Neville added.  
“I’d have brought in Ron, but whatever he made from the book is tied up in a trust he can’t access till he’s seventeen, so he hasn’t got anything to add to the pot. It’s too bad, really, he would probably have handed it over with a smile.” Harry shrugged.  
“We can bring him in when he’s seventeen…in the meantime though, how about the older weasel? Wasn’t he off battling muggles for money all summer?” Greg wondered.  
“You know…you most definitely have a point. What do you all think? Should we approach him?”  
“Couldn’t hurt, and you figure he’s going to be of age before any of us, so he’s got a more pressing reason to try to make his money work for him.” vince nodded.  
“He’s planning on starting a nightclub. He supposedly got involved in the rave scene this summer, and made a bit of extra money selling harmless feel-good potions disguised as muggle pharmaceuticals. If he thinks we might help his dream become reality, he’d probably be willing to give it a try at the very least.”   
“Hey Luna, how long were you standing there?” Neville asked.  
“Not long.”  
“How do you know all that about the night club?”  
“Penny’s a Ravenclaw. She was with Percy all summer. This was a plan they came up with together—though she’ll probably be running it as he still wants to go to the Ministry.”  
“Does Penny have money to put up too?”  
“She has a college fund, what she’s made over the last two summers selling fake drugs to muggles, and from betting on Percy this summer.”   
“Well then, maybe we should approach both of them. Opening up a nightclub would be a good first project for us to try out. This could be just what we’ve been looking for. So, gentlemen, shall we?”   
“Let us handle it boss. It’ll make a better impression if they don’t meet with you till the meeting tonight. We don’t want them thinking we’re running some shoddy operation here.” Vince objected.  
“Fine, by all means.” Harry waved them off. The two large boys nodded and straightened their hair and robes before stalking off towards the group Percy and Penny were talking with.   
“Huh…they finally perfected their _‘we’re here on business’_ powerwalk. They’ve really been working on all this, haven’t they? They should get a bonus; they’ve really been working hard.”   
Neville and Luna just nodded.  
 

   
Harry went early to the come and go room—or the Room of Requirement, which seemed to be how Voldemort and the Grey Lady knew it. He had debated just using an empty classroom somewhere, but eventually decided that in order to impress upon everyone that yes, he was serious, and yes, they really did want to hand over large gobs of money, he was going to need the proper surroundings. He’d worked hard to keep the room more or less secret—he, the elves, Filch and Professor Trelawney all regularly made use of it, but they seemed to be the only ones. He didn’t really want to make anyone else aware of them, but well, sacrifices had to be made. He settled on one he didn’t use often, but that wasn’t too far off the beaten path. It was just off the muggle studies classroom, an area Harry normally had no real reason to visit, and so he was willing to sacrifice knowledge of its location for this purpose. He figured, unless everyone coming tonight figured out both how to call it up and how to use it to its full effect, it would still be his secret—and if they did figure it out, well, he didn’t normally use this one anyway.  
   
He paced three times, focusing on a room for a business meeting. When the door appeared and he stepped through, he found himself in a nicely appointed room, complete with large oval table, high-backed, padded wooden seats. The one at the head of the table was just a tad higher and fancier than the rest. Pitchers of juice, pots of tea, and plates piled with snacks and little sandwiches appeared on the sideboards to either side of the room. Nodding in approval he went and left copies of the explanatory packets he, Neville, and Luna had put together at each chair, then got himself some snacks and tea before settling down in the big chair at the end, facing the door. 

Vince and Greg arrived first, nodded to him and took the seats to his left and right after getting themselves some snacks as well.

“Clearwater and Weasley will both be here. They’re not too sure at the moment, but I don’t think it’ll take much to get them on board.”  
“Yeah, they’re keen to have their money working for them so they don’t have to, and can go do other things. Clearwater mentioned she wants to be a researcher, but big libraries, facilities and equipment don’t come cheap, and she doesn’t have the connections to be offered a cushy research job anywhere.”

“Really? Something to think about if we ever set up an R and D department. What’s her field?”

“She’s good with potions, charms and transfigurations—that’s what led to her selling fake muggle drugs during the summer. She’d make up a couple of cauldrons of harmless potions and make them look like pills of different shapes and colors and then package them singly and charge top galleons for them. Apparently muggles at parties and dance clubs will shell out large sums of money for just a couple of little pills.”

“Something else to think about.”

Crabbe and Goyle just nodded—that was why they’d mentioned it, after all.  
   
Neville and Luna arrived next and took the seats to either side of Crabbe and Goyle. 

“We spotted the others making their way here as we were coming up the stairs, so it shouldn’t be too much longer till we can get started.” 

Percy and Penny arrived next, and both looked around at the room and the corridor outside in bewilderment.

“I’ve been down this corridor countless times, but I’ve never seen this room before!”

“Well, Hogwarts is full of secrets, isn’t she? Come in, get a snack, take your seats. We’re waiting for a few others and then we can get started.” 

The two exchanged a look, but went to fetch some snacks. The spoke in low tones and cast a lot of looks at the kids seated at the table while they were doing so, but that was fine. They’d talk them around soon enough.

Dean arrived next, then Justin Finch-Fletchley, then the rest of the Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw kids. They chatted, got snacks and settled into the remaining seats. Percy and Penny didn’t look at all reassured about being there when they saw who the rest of the people they’d been waiting for were.   
Harry started talking before they got up to leave—he could see all too clearly they were thinking about it.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming today. If all goes well, this could well be the first meeting of what could, in time, become a very lucrative partnership for all of us. If you’ll take a look at the materials I and my colleagues put together for the meeting today, we can get started….”   
   
   
   
It was nearly curfew before the meeting finally broke up. It had gone well—everyone who had come had signed the contracts, and put up varying amounts to be the seed of their new corporation. When everyone except Harry, Neville, Vince, Greg, Draco, Pansy, Millicent and Luna had gone, Harry had everyone stand from their seats at the table, and the room changed around them. Now, instead of a board room, there was a cozy sitting room with a roaring fire, and comfy seats for all of them. 

“That computer thingy of yours is a godsend. I thought Clearwater and Weasley were going to bolt, but then you were able to pull out all that stuff about locations and start up costs for the nightclub they wanted…” Draco mused.

“I e-mailed Griphook after I talked to you guys earlier. Goblins are very efficient when they think there’s a possibility of profit in the offing. I got an answer back within the hour.”

“So…we start work on the nightclub this summer, let Weasley and Clearwater worry about getting it up and running…” Pansy mused.

“We’ll take out an ad in the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, and we can print up some flyers to pass out on the train. We’ll just have to make sure we get the place up and running in time. I can tell Dora and Barty about the place too, and they can spread the word to people their age and older.” Harry nodded.

“How much work is this place going to take?” Millicent wondered.

“It shouldn’t be too onerous—the place used to be a warehouse. It’s a big open space and a couple of lofts. It mostly just needs to be cleaned up, have whatever remaining junk is in there gotten rid of, and then decorated. We have more than enough startup money to cover the cost of the place and getting it ready, according to the projections the goblins did on the project. The only other things in the area are more warehouses and they’re all empty on that part of the block. With proper warding, it should be a perfect place for bored witches and wizards to pop off for a night’s entertainment.”   
A pitcher of juice and an array of cups appeared when Harry thought to himself that he was rather thirsty—he had been doing a lot of talking, after all. 

Luna did the honors and passed out glasses of juice to everyone. “I propose a toast. To the corporation.”

“The corporation!” the others echoed.  
“Long may we reign!”  
“Hear, hear!”  
 

Percy and Penny slowed to a stop just outside the entrance to Ravenclaw tower.

“I can’t believe we just became part of a corporation with a bunch of little kids.”

“Rich little kids, little kids with big ideas and the money and connections to do something with them. Percy, do you even realize what a tremendous opportunity we’ve just been given? I’m a half-blood with a muggle name that most people assume is muggleborn—and considering my mother died when I was still quite young, I really might as well be. Your family, while prominent, is also poor and you’re considered blood-traitors. Chances are neither one of us was going to go anywhere fast—yeah, we’re both smart and we work hard, but without those connections it doesn’t mean anything unless you happen to get lucky. Perce…we just got lucky. The nightclub we talked about is going to be a reality this summer, and we didn’t have to blow our whole savings to make it happen. We’ll be bringing in money from that, which will just start accumulating and generating interest for the next couple of years while we finish school and get ourselves established. A lot of those kids parents either work in the Ministry or are on the Wizengamot, or the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, or they own the bloody hospital, or they’re famous for living and are related to the folks who own half the shops and most of the manufacturing and publishing houses…and you can call on those ties in the Ministry. Plus, you heard the Potter kid—a research division is something they want to consider for the future—which means I might get a chance to be part of it, and have the resources to actually make a contribution! They might be little kids now, but they’re not going to be forever—and we were lucky enough to get in on the ground floor. From here on out, whatever those kids get up to is going to be making us money because we were at that meeting tonight, even if we never lift another finger. We should both be down on our knees, thanking Merlin and all the good spirits that we’re in a corporation with a bunch of little kids!” Penny cackled. 

She suddenly threw her arms around Percy’s neck and kissed him on the lips with abandon. When she pulled back, her eyes were wild and exultant and she had a feral smile on her face. 

“Baby…today was our lucky day.”   
“Less talking, more kissing.”  
“Thought you’d nev…mmmp!”   
When breathing became an issue, they separated again, and Percy leaned their foreheads together.  
“Marry me?”  
Penny leaned back in surprise and searched Percy’s face for some sign he was joking. He was quite serious. She didn’t even have to think about it.  
“Yes.”   
Percy blinked, and then slowly a smile began to break across his face. “Yeah?”  
Penny began smiling too, and then laughing. “Yeah.” She agreed. The next thing she knew, Percy had swept her up and was spinning them both in a circle.   
   
   
   
“Hey look, Aurors!” 

“Ron! Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“Hey, he’s right, it is Aurors. What do you suppose they want?”

“They’re probably here to talk to Lockhart.”

“Oh…right. You know, I completely forgot about him.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Not surprising, he’s been petrified for what…six months now?”

Harry rose from his seat and slipped out into the entryway and then returned a few minutes later.

“Violet?” Neville asked when he returned.

“Yep. She said she’ll give us the scoop.”

“HARRY POTTER!”

Harry glared balefully at Hermione when she drew a deep breath to begin one of her rants. 

“Shut it, Hermione, or you’re getting silenced again. She’d have been doing it anyway, I’m just letting her know ahead of time that we want to know what gets said so she’ll get details.”

“I’m still lost.” Ron admitted.

“Violet, the gossipy portrait that hangs out with the Fat Lady. I told her we were real interested to know how Lockhart’s questioning goes. She’s gonna head off and listen in and then report back about it.”

“Oh, good idea mate.”

“IT IS NOT A GOOD IDEA! REALLY, GETTING PORTRAITS TO SPY ON PEOPLE FOR YOU!”

Hannah Abbot, who was right nearby, seated at the Hufflepuff table, leaned over to find out what was going on. When Neville explained she just nodded. “Oh, good idea.”

Hermione spluttered indignantly.

“I hope he didn’t do it…what am I going to do with all his books if he’s evil?” Lavender sighed.

“We can use them as fuel for the Solstice bonfire?” Seamus suggested.

Hannah laughed. “Yeah, we could do that, I guess.” 

“I don’t believe you! How can you condone him using portraits to spy on people?”

“What’s the problem? The headmaster does it, and you know the teachers aren’t going to tell us much about Lockhart, even if he’s guilty.” Hannah replied indifferently, before turning back to her lunch.  
 

 

Lunch was over, and the students spread out across the lawn, playing games and enjoying the warmth of the day, when the Aurors reappeared with Lockhart between them with his hands bound behind his back. It looked like they were holding him up. Lockhart’s face was grey, and he looked like a man on his way to the gallows. Several of the children, upon spotting him being led away, jumped up and went in to talk to Violet.

“Oh, there you are, Harry dear. Oh, that man…he’s awful! It such a waste…he’s so pretty, after all. Oh, what is the world coming to when good looking wizards stoop so low!”   
Violet moaned. “Such a tragic waste” the Fat Lady, who was in the portrait frame as well, visiting, agreed.

“So what did he say, exactly?”

“He made the basilisk, but he had it under imperius. It was just supposed to creep around in the walls hissing about how evil it was or something. He was planning on setting up fake basilisk attacks, that made it look like the person affected had met its gaze indirectly. He was going to make a big show of killing the thing with his rooster once the fear and dismay levels had risen high enough, and then he was going to write a book about how he’d saved the whole school while Dumbledore was helpless to do anything. He seems to have also hoped the sword of Gryffindor would appear while he was valorously getting ready to defend the school from the monster.”

“That’s a rather inane plan.”

“A great thinker he’s not.”

“Why would he do something like that? I mean, he’s a hero!” Hermione sputtered. 

“Afraid not, sweetie. Apparently all the stuff in his books is true—he just wasn’t the one that did any of it. He found people who’d done heroic deeds, got their stories, and then obliviated them of all knowledge of it. He said none of the actual heroes was pretty enough to be famous, not like himself, and so he obviously deserved it more. Can you believe it?”

“Yes.” Harry answered with very little thought. “Though I’ll admit, even I hadn’t pegged him as being quite so creepy as all that.” 

“And just think, Hermione, you’ve been sleeping with that creep’s picture beneath your pillow for months now!” Lavender gasped.

“WHAT?” Ron bellowed in outrage, while Hermione’s face went beet red and she began spluttering indignant denials.

“Wow, Hermione, you’re a really lousy judge of character, aren’t you?” Neville interjected quietly.

Ron and Hermione both turned to look at the normally quiet boy in surprise.

“Understatement” Harry scoffed. 

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” Hermione demanded indignantly.

“I think that’d be bloody obvious” Ron replied sourly, before stalking away, red in the face and looking supremely irritated. “Bloody Lockhart. He was a prancing bloody popinjay of a prat, and he’s apparently evil to boot. There’s no accounting for taste, is there?” 

Hermione huffed and spun on her heel, before stalking in the opposite direction. 

Parvati sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m glad they both left before they continued—they drive you mad with all their bickering.”

“Yeah.” The rest of the kids agreed.

“I wish we were older so we could tell them to just shag already and get it out of their systems.” Harry sighed mournfully.

“HARRY!” Parvati and Lavender shrieked in embarrassment, though they were laughing nonetheless. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Harry held up his hands and looked innocent. 

“Actually, Harry, we wanted to talk to you.” Parvati spoke, once she’d calmed down some.

“Yeah, why wasn’t I included in your corporation thingy?”

“I didn’t do most of the recruiting for it, that was Vince and Greg. Why, you want to be a part of it? We haven’t actually done anything yet, nor have I given the bank the contracts yet. If you want in, there’s still time. Do you have money to put in?”

Lavender nodded seriously. “Oh, sure. I have a vault that’s just mine for spending. I didn’t have my share of the book deal put in trust either, it’s just been going to my vault, which means I actually have a fair bit to work with. I won’t be able to put in a huge amount, but even a little bit will bring me something back, right?”

“Yeah, quarterly dividends.”

“Alright, I want in. I was reading some of the stuff you gave Parv last night. I think it all sounds really exciting!” 

“Alright then, come this way, and we’ll get you added to the contract.” 

“Ooh yay!” Lavender clapped as she hustled after him.  
   
 

When it was finally time to board the Hogwarts Express back to London—the official end of the school year, even if classes had actually ended two weeks prior—many of the children were really quite impatient to get going. They had flyers to hand out and a nightclub to get up and running. 

They had given the flyers to Percy and Penny since the nightclub was really their show. They’d be distributing them to the Prefects to hand out on the train—yellow ones advertising the nightclub, which was to be given to those of age, and orange ones for those who were fifteen and sixteen, advertising the ‘daytime pub for teens’ that would be operating out of the nightclub during daylight hours. The rest of them had fliers as well, to hand out at home to friends and relatives in the post-Hogwarts twenty and up crowd. They had the grand opening slated for July 14th—seventh month, and seven times two for the day—three sevens, an auspicious date to begin a new venture, they all thought. That gave them roughly three weeks to get everything set up and running. They weren’t too worried—magic did help to shorten the time needed for renovations. 

Harry had no doubt in his mind that the place would be raking in money as soon as it opened. There was a conspicuous lack of entertainment in the wizarding world—one reason quidditch was so insanely popular—quidditch was one of the few outlets people had. Oh, one could hang out at the pubs and talk politics, or hang out at home playing gobstones or backyard quidditch (though only if you were one of the lucky ones, like the Weasleys, who had a huge plot of land far from the prying eyes of local muggles). There just wasn’t much else to do if you were young and wanted to have fun. It was very unlike the muggle world, with its movies, amusement parks, dance clubs, etc. The young people of the wizarding world were going to be so thrilled to have something new, fun and exciting to do, where they could hang out with other young people for an evening, they were going to be flocking to the place in droves, eager to let off some steam. The same went for the younger teens—most stayed at home, under the watchful eyes of parents, doing homework or chores, or playing board games. A chance to hang out with other teens for the afternoon was going to be irresistible. 

   
“You know, once the nightclub takes off, maybe we should look into acquiring the rest of the warehouses on that block. We could set up a whole entertainment complex, some for the daytime, some for the night time.” Harry mused. “I’ll want to see the place, of course, see what sort of possibilities it offers up, but it’s a good idea, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know if there are enough wizards in Britain with disposable income to make a whole complex worthwhile.” Theo objected.

“So we put out word to the travel agencies to include tickets to the places as part of their travel plans. We could offer discounts to foreign tourists coming through a travel agency—or, we charge the traveler full price, but the agency gets to keep ten percent of the price of the tickets during the transaction…yeah, that’ll encourage them to suggest Britain as a premier travel destination and to push buying tickets to our entertainment complex. If people like it enough, they’ll go home and tell all their friends, “Wow! Britain was great, and you should have seen the entertainments they had, why, I haven’t had so much fun in years!” Draco suggested.

The others nodded as they began to see the possibilities. “Yeah, wow, that probably would work. It would have to be pretty wild to keep them coming back for more though.” Neville cautioned.

“We’re witches and wizards-I’m sure we can come up with something.” Luna shrugged.

“We should all start thinking of ideas, so we have them ready to go when the time comes.” Millicent agreed.

“Sounds good. Now, the next item on the agenda, I was thinking we should start thinking about setting up a corporate headquarters somewhere—we need someplace to have meetings, toss around ideas and whatnot. It’s too bad, really, that I let Barty and Dora stay at the Riddle house, because that would have been perfect, but oh well. I suppose we could use my house in the interim, until we set up a permanent headquarters—I don’t want my house to be the office when I’m actually living there. What do you all think? I should be able to get the floo access back up, after all the research I did on the house project….hmmm, I’ll have to see. What do you all think?”

“I think it sounds good. We can have all the corporation stuff in one place, rather than scattered about our rooms, and a definite place to meet…yeah, let’s do that. We can just keep our eyes open for a good location for the permanent office later.” Theo nodded.

“Alright, I’ll see about getting the floo hooked up—it’s external access, there’s a floo building just inside the gate. I don’t want a floo inside the house, especially as I won’t be there most of the time. I should contact the Bell’s too, see if I can get a printer for my computer…maybe get more phones and computers for the corporation at a discount—it’s something to think about.” 

“We can probably save all that for the permanent office, hopefully we’ll be bringing in profits by that point. No sense squandering all our seed money this early. Anyway, most of us have phones already, so there’s no real hurry.”`

“Just getting excited, I guess, but you’re right, we need to be smart with our seed money and use it in a way that does the company the most good. Geez, I’m going to be busy in the coming weeks—Sirius and Adeline’s wedding, then setting up the nightclub, and my house as headquarters…at that rate, this summer should fly by.”   
   
 

   
Harry woke and looked around disoriented for just a moment—he wasn’t in his room at the Dursley’s, he wasn’t in his room at Grimmauld Place, nor was he in his dorm room at Hogwarts…  
It took a moment before he remembered just where he was—he was at the Riddle House, though he supposed it should technically be Potter house now, or even Crouch Place, since Barty and Dora were living there at the moment. They had decided to hold Sirius and Adeline’s wedding there, since Grimmauld Place had hosted Barty and Dora’s. With it being a summer wedding, it made more sense, as the house had plenty of ground around it for them to hold the ceremony outside, and the house was plenty big enough to host the reception should the weather turn against them at any point.

Sirius had picked him up the night before at King’s Cross Station, and then they’d made a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get Harry a ‘muggle friendly suit’. Harry had taken a look at the bolts of colorful velvet and silk held out for his perusal, and had talked Sirius into taking them to Harrod’s before they closed for the night. He’d gotten a nice grey frock-coat tuxedo that would look equally at home in the muggle or wizarding worlds, and they had done spot alterations right there so he could take it home with him that very night.   
He got dressed and headed downstairs to see about breakfast—there was no real point trying to do his workout, as there was really nowhere for him to let loose nearby—the pavilions were already set up for the wedding outside, and the house was full of flowers. He had a feeling he’d end up fleeing for his life were he to mess up any of the decorations before the wedding took place.   
   
Much to his surprise, the rest of the household woke not long after he did. Sirius was a nervous wreck and seemed to have trouble keeping down his food—much to Remus and Barty’s amusement. Adeline and her entourage arrived not long after, and installed themselves upstairs, taking over a whole floor for all of them to get ready. After that, everything was a flurry of activity. Harry retreated to his room to stay out of the way. 

“What to do with the next…hmmm, two hours?” Harry wondered to himself as he flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Oh, hey…”

He sat up and dug around in his belt pouch for a bit and withdrew a heavy gold ring with a black stone on the top. He put it on, and then hurried to the door and peeked outside, then cast a proximity ward on the hallway to alert him if anyone was coming to his room, and then cast a silencing ward on the door that would keep his voice from travelling into the hallway. Once satisfied with his precautions, he turned the stone three times while thinking of the people he wanted to call. “Walburga Black, Orion Black, Regulus Black”

Three people appeared around him—a man who looked like an older Sirius, a young man who looked like a younger Sirius—one who’s hair didn’t seem to do that cool flippy thing—and a woman whom he recognized from her portrait in Grimmauld Place.

“Hello. I imagine you all would like to know what you’re doing here…well, I thought you all might like to attend your son and brother’s wedding.” Harry explained.

“Uh…what?” Regulus asked. “Who are you? You look like James Potter somewhat…”

“Not surprising, considering he was my father.”

“Did you say Sirius was getting married? How? To who? Where are we, and how did you call us?”

Harry sighed, and settled in to have a long chat with Sirius’ family. 

Once he was done, he dismissed them, with promises to call them back when the wedding started, and a warning that he was going to put the ring in his pocket so he wouldn’t be distracted by their presence, as he was the only one who could hear or see them.   
   
After dismissing the Blacks, he started to get ready. When he came out of the shower, it was to find Remus and Barty, already dressed, trying to reason with a wild-eyed, pacing Sirius, who had come to the conclusion that he wasn’t meant to be tied down, but rather to live as a ‘lone-wolf’.   
Harry had dug out a calming draught from his pouch, which Remus somehow got him to drink. 

“Sirius, if you leave now, Adeline will probably never speak to you again. Maybe you should think about that before you do anything stupid, because really, I don’t think you really want that, I think you’re just nervous.” Harry reminded him. 

Remus and Barty were able to chivvy Sirius towards the shower once the calming draught started to take effect; Harry left them to it and went to see what was going on in the rest of the house .  
   
The rest of the upstairs was a madhouse—all the bridesmaids, the bride, her mother, aunts and several female cousins were all running to and fro while getting ready. Downstairs was a madhouse as well—people were arriving every few minutes by floo, while others were apparating into the stable behind the house, which had been cleared, cleaned and fixed up for just such a purpose, while still others were arriving by car or van. Arcturus was greeting people by the floo, a couple of Barty’s cousins—the groomsmen from his wedding, in fact, were directing those apparating to their seats, while Adeline’s father was handling those arriving by car. Not wanting to be in the way, or to be roped into directing guests—he’d had enough of that at Barty and Dora’s wedding—he slipped away into the library and hoped he could find some quiet there. He found Draco, Vince and Millicent already hiding out there, along with Marcus Flint, an older Slytherin, and Ernie MacMillan.

“Wow, great minds think alike, huh?” 

“I hope it all gets started soon, all this hustle and bustle is irritating.” Flint sighed.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Sirius is getting dressed right now. He was getting cold feet earlier.”

“He’s not going to call the wedding off!” Millicent gasped.

“Unlikely. He’s sickeningly crazy about her, I think he was just nervous. He went to prison when he was like, twenty-two or something. He’s now thirty two, but he still thinks of himself as being a young, carefree guy who isn’t ready to settle down. I think it just really hit him that he’s not a kid anymore and he’s about to get married and that he’s expected to be a grownup from now on. He just got a bit freaked, that’s all. So…what should we do to pass the time?”

“Exploding snap?” Ernie suggested.

“Absolutely not” Draco gasped. “Mother will kill me if I get messed up.”

“We could play poker.”

“What’s that?”

Harry smiled and pulled a plain pack of muggle playing cards out of his pouch and began shuffling. “Does anyone have anything to wager? It’s not poker without a wager.”

“Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?” Vince sighed.

Harry just smiled innocently as he cut the cards one-handed and then sent them shooting from hand to hand in a long line.  
   
   
They were on their third hand when Narcissa came to fetch all of them.  
Draco, Millicent and Vince all threw down their cards with relief.

“Thank Merlin, I was down to my last knut.” Marcus muttered as he stood from the table.

Harry just grinned as he raked his winnings into a pile and then gathered up his cards. 

“We should do this again sometime.”

“No thanks.”

“Ah, you just need some practice…and better poker faces.” 

“I think I’ll just stick to exploding snap.” 

Harry dropped slightly behind the others as they approached the door leading outside, and slipped his hand into his pocket to retrieve the ring.  
To his surprise, when Orion, Walburga and Regulus appeared, there were four others with them.  
Walburga spotted the question in his eyes.

“My father, Pollux Black, and my brothers Cygnus and Alphard, and our cousin, Talia Flint.” she explained, indicating the three men and woman who stood with them. Harry nearly opened his mouth to ask a question, but remembered last moment that the others would only hear him, apparently speaking to thin air.  
“Yes, Cygnus is Draco’s grandfather, and Talia is Adeline’s grandmother.” Regulus replied, correctly anticipating his question.   
   
Harry had to blink his eyes against the brightness outside. It was a perfect, beautiful day—warm, but not too hot, with a faint breeze. The sky overhead was a clear, eye-searing cerulean blue. The white pavilions that had been set up were just ahead, standing out starkly against the green hills and forest beyond them, and gaily bedecked with flowers. Just in front of the pavilions was another , smaller canopy, with a low dais beneath it, which was bedecked with a flower-entwined archway. Sirius and Remus stood on the dais, waiting—Remus placidly, Sirius looking ready to jump out of his skin at any moment. 

“Geez, I wonder if I should give him another calming draught?”

Up ahead, Narcissa laughed gaily. 

“He’ll forget how nervous he is once Adeline comes down the aisle. Besides, we don’t want him too calm, I doubt Adeline will thank you for it later…” she trailed off and then cleared her throat, while looking embarrassed when Marcus snorted, and then she saw all the younger kids staring at her blankly. Harry wasn’t sure what she was talking about, until he realized all the dead Blacks and Mrs. Gardiner were snickering too. He could feel his cheeks heating up, which allowed the other three to catch on; soon they were all sporting red faces as well.   
   
It seemed half the wizarding world had come out for the wedding. Sarge and the fellows from the VFW were all there, along with what looked to be most of the staff of Hogwarts, the Order of the Phoenix (what was left of it anyway), half the Ministry, and at least a third of the parents of his classmates. He’d had no idea Sirius and Adeline knew so many people. 

Narcissa looked around at the huge crowd and sighed rather contentedly—he figured she must be taking it as a good sign for herself and her family’s future social life to have the wedding of the scion of the Blacks attract such a crowd. The dead Blacks seemed rather comforted by the sight as well, to judge by their murmuring. Harry surreptitiously slipped off the ring and put it in his pocket without dismissing them, and then grabbed it a few moments later to check they were still there—they were. He let out a sigh of relief as he took his seat; he really hadn’t wanted to have their comments distracting him all through the ceremony. 

He dithered for a moment in indecision and then slipped his hand back into his pocket and rubbed at the stone while thinking of his parents—his father had been Sirius’ best friend, and Sirius had been best man at his parents’ wedding. He imagined they’d want to be around to witness it too. He pulled his hand out before he could see them, as he was still wary of using the stone to call anyone he actually wanted to see and talk to—he could only imagine that way lay badness. It was for the best if he tried to keep the temptation to a minimum.   
   
Harry was seated in the front row, along with Arcturus and Melania, Andromeda and Ted and Nymphadora—Barty was in the wedding. 

The music started up and everyone turned to face the back of the tent. The bridesmaid and matron of honor came first—a friend of Adeline’s from Hogwarts and one from law school, if he remembered correctly. He was rather amused to see that his off the cuff suggestion about tangerine gowns had apparently been taken to heart—what’s more, Lavender and Parvati were right , it was a good color for both women, one of whom was blonde with blue eyes, and the other who was black.   
Barty and Remus' looked rather dapper, in dark grey with their ties and cummerbunds a darkish tangerine to complement the bridesmaid’s dresses.  
After the attendants passed, a little black girl who looked to be about three, in a long tangerine dress with a wreath of flowers in her hair came next—the daughter of the matron of honor, he believed.  
Adeline came next, on the arm of her father—it was a muggle-friendly wedding after all, and the muggles in the audience would expect it. Harry could admit he was surprised Adeline’s dad had gone for the idea, since he struck him as a guy who’d spent a good portion of his life trying to deny his muggle roots altogether.   
   
Adeline’s gown was a much simpler affair than Nymphadora’s had been—it was less poofy, less sparkly—very elegant. Her hair was upswept, and was covered with a simple veil, held in place by a band of white roses across the top of her head. Sirius looked to have been struck dumb at the sight of her, and just like that the nervous tension that had vibrated through him all morning seemed to melt away, and a peaceful resolve took its place. He supposed he was happy for them, but he still worried how the permanent addition of Adeline was going to affect the household, and what things were going to be like when they started having children. He also, though he tried not to think about it, wondered what his parents thought of him calling them back from the dead like he had, and whether they were upset with him for not talking to them. Thoughts of them kept him distracted through most of the ceremony and he had to fight the temptation to slip his hand back into his pocket to grab the stone so he could see and hear them. He figured that was proof enough that he’d made the correct decision to not interact with them—he might not be willing or able to let them go again.   
   
Since it was a muggle friendly ceremony, they exchanged rings, which wizards didn’t normally do—the marriage binding was enough for most people as it made you disinclined to stray from your vows, and it seemed to be enough to let the (magical) folks around you know you were off the market. The officiant slipped in the marriage binding during the exchange of rings—it was very subtly done, with the fellow’s wand mostly hidden in his sleeve. Sirius and Adeline glowed golden when it was cast, though apparently the muggles in the audience couldn’t see that part, as none of them reacted. He could only figure that ‘muggle friendly weddings with magic’ must have been at least somewhat common for everything to have gone so smoothly—most wizards didn’t have much in the way of subtlety, Harry had noticed.   
   
Arcturus and Melania, Andromeda, and Narcissa were all beaming throughout the ceremony as though none of them could be more pleased—he assumed that for a group as concerned with their family and lineage as the Blacks, the near extinction of the family and loss of their name had been of great concern to them. This wedding was tangible proof that their line and name would continue on for at least another generation. Harry could only assume that all of them being there was also cause for celebration as well—between Sirius’ estrangement and Andromeda’s disownment—it wasn’t just the death of a good many of the Blacks in recent years that had been cause for concern, after all. The days and years since Sirius’ release from Azkaban had been the start of a huge reversal of fortune for their family, culminating in the wedding today.

It was perhaps that fact which seemed to make the crowd explode in merriment once Sirius and Adeline were pronounced husband and wife—the remaining members of the House of Black’s glee was just that contagious. 

Music seemed to spring up spontaneously, and the crowd laughingly vacated the pavilions so the chairs could be cleared out for an arrangement of tables and chairs more suited to the reception—something that had to be done by hand rather than a wave of a wand because of all the muggles about. There were enough willing hands that the changeover was quickly done, and then the buffet tables began to fill with food, carried by a long line of women who had made themselves busy while the men were moving the tables and chairs. It was all done so quickly and so smoothly it was hard to believe the inside of the pavilions had looked so different just a few minutes prior. White tablecloths were laid down over the tables, and flower arrangements with candles in glass sconces were installed as centerpieces, to help illuminate the party as it began to grow dark. The guests streamed over to start dancing—the festive mood was just that contagious.   
   
The students of Hogwarts had left school on the 19th, and today was the summer solstice—they’d been deprived of their usual solstice party because of the date while still at school, but that didn’t mean they had to continue to be. Harry caught Draco’s eye and raised his eyebrows, and then did the same to Neville; they both seemed to catch on instantly, as they started gathering up the kids and sending them to the dance floor, while Harry went and had a chat with the band. The muggles in the audience and the adult wizards watched in confusion when the kids first gathered and started dancing. The adult wizards, recognizing what they were doing soon joined in. When the magic of the dance began to gather, the muggles were swept up into the dance as well. 

Magic was a funny thing—while caught up in the spell, every sense seemed heightened—each note of music sounded separately to your ears with astounding clarity, each thud of feet on the wooden dance floor throbbed through you like a heartbeat, the smell of the grass, and the flowers and the trees became an intoxicating perfume that spoke of summertime and lazy days and warmth and plenty—but at the same time, you felt rather like you were swimming underwater in a dream. The party lasted the whole of the day and into the night—candles and torches and glow-bulbs were lit and set about the property to illuminate it once the sun began to fall. Even the people down below in the town seemed to get swept up in the festive atmosphere—Harry had a vague recollection of a massive conga line dancing down the hill and into the town at one point, with wedding guests and townsfolk both taking part and weaving through the streets of the small town. The folks in the town put together a pot luck buffet to supplement the food being served at the wedding, and someone hit the champagne fountain with a charm to keep it producing champagne long after it should have run dry. Sirius and Adeline had taken their leave as night began to fall, amidst much fanfare and well-wishing—even from the folks of the town who didn’t know them.   
   
It was a four-hour drive from Little Hangleton to London, so Harry was going to be spending the night, and then Barty was going to pop him over to the Dursleys in the morning. It was quite late when he finally stumbled up to bed—probably close to 2 am. His head was swimming, and his feet seemed to want to keep dancing, though he managed to control that for the most part.

It didn’t really occur to him until he was stripped down to his boxers and crawling into bed that he hadn’t dismissed any of the spirits of the dead—he’d quite forgotten about them once the dancing started; he had meant to send them away after the wedding was over. He was so tired, and really wanted to just go to sleep, but duty called. He dug out the ring from his pants, which were lying on the floor, and rubbed the stone while cycling through the names of everyone he’d called. He kept his eyes closed—he didn’t want to see his parents. Now that he’d recalled that they were almost close enough to touch, or at least be seen and talked to, that same longing that had rose up in him earlier rose up again and seemed ready to swallow him whole. 

He thought he could hear his mother calling to him _‘Harry…Harry love…open your eyes! Why won’t you look at us?”_

He hardened his heart and screwed his eyes shut all the tighter and dismissed everyone back to their eternal rest. 

He fell asleep with the ring still clutched in his hand, and the giddy haze from earlier burned out of his system. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” he sighed to himself. Finally, exhaustion swept him under and he slept soundly without remembering his dreams.   
   
 

“Damn, ouch…I wish they made the trees in these parts like they do in Konoha…it isn’t nearly as much fun when you barely have room to maneuver and have to be so careful to actually find branches sturdy enough to support your weight that you can actually get to. Maybe this was a bad idea.” Harry thought to himself irritably. 

He had woken early and found that Barty and Dora were still abed. The refuse from the wedding the night prior had already been cleared away by the house elves under cover of darkness, so there was no sign of the crazy party that had raged over the grounds just a few hours ago. 

Upon waking, he’d had the bright idea to do some training, and decided to try his hand at tree-hopping. The only problem was, in Konoha and the surrounding lands, the trees grew to such massive proportions, you could literally build a city in one, and have room for a couple of houses and a path between them on some of the tree branches. With trees like that, hopping from branch to branch was a quick, easy and efficient way to travel. 

Here, the trees weren’t so large or so roomy, and so travelling that way was a bit of an exercise in frustration; even in the largest, oldest trees at the center of the forest. Harry kept at it though—one never knew when disappearing into the trees might be useful or necessary; it would be helpful to have experience if he ever needed it. After hopping from tree to tree, and trying to be stealthy about it, for about an hour, he changed tactics and began practicing hitting spots he’d chosen as targets while leaping from tree to tree and flipping in mid-air. His training room at Hogwarts was great, but even he could admit being outside amidst actual obstacles in the real world was a whole different sort of challenge. 

He might have to make a point to train outside ocassionally while at Hogwarts and during the summers. He should also try his hand at tracking things through the woods—one of the ninja classes he'd been present for taught it, but they had different plants and some different animals in the ninja world—he wasn’t sure how much of his borrowed knowledge would be applicable in his own world.   
“So much to learn, so little time.” Harry sighed while twisting in midair to pepper the trees across from him with a hail of kunai and shuriken. He landed in a crouch in the center of the clearing and slowly stood to survey his handiwork. He’d managed to hit most of what he’d aimed for, and had even managed to knock loose some pinecones when he’d aimed for them. He drew his wand and summoned all his spent shuriken and kunai back to himself and directed them to land in a pile in front of him. He checked over his equipment for nicks and scratches and took care of them before stowing them away in hidden spots all over his body where they could be quickly and easily be brought to hand should he ever need them. Once that was done he did his cool down stretches and headed back towards the house. 

 

Harry didn't make it to the Dursleys until mid-afternoon; Barty and Dora both slept in, sporting hangovers from the long night. Even though he was mostly recovered by the time he took Harry there, Barty was still looking a bit bleary-eyed and worse for wear. Harry was dropped off without ceremony, patted on the head and left to his own devices. 

"Gee. I feel so loved." Harry muttered to himself as he knocked on Aunt Petunia's door.

He could only sigh when Aunt Petunia opened the door and almost immediately got her usual thin-lipped expression upon spotting him. 

"Oh, you're here. When you didn't show up we thought you changed your mind."

"No, everyone was just hungover from the wedding yesterday."

Petunia sniffed disapprovingly and stepped aside so he could come in. 

"I need you to run to the store."

Harry sighed again. He really hated coming here.

"Sure thing, Aunt Petunia." 

 

The following morning, Harry caught the Knight Bus bright and early and had it drop him off in the midst of a creepy, half-empty warehouse district. When the bus had gone, he checked the copy of the bill of sale the goblins had sent him and dug out a set of muggle keys from his pocket. Inside, the place was dirty, filled with bits of rubbish, and not in the least inviting. They had three weeks to get the place fixed and gussied up, and looking like somewhere people not only wanted to hang out, but spend money. That was probably going to be easier said than done, given what they had to work with.   
He was nearly done his inspection of the premises, when he heard Percy and Penny outside.

"Are you sure this is the right place? It doesn't look like much."

"We were going to parties in places like this all summer, Perce, what were you expecting. Try seeing the possibilities."

"Well, yes…I guess I was expecting something a bit grander, is all."

"Perce, we could never have afforded this place on our own. Stop complaining." 

"Well, I'm glad to see one of you has the right attitude. Penny's right. With a bit of work, this place holds plenty of potential."

"Oh, Potter. You're here already are you?"

"I'm an early riser. What do you say we get started cleaning. By the time the others get here and our deliveries start arriving we should be good to go."

"I don't see any mops or buckets."

"Why the hell would there be mops and buckets?"

"For you and the others, of course."

Harry snorted and looked at him like he was crazy. "Yeah, right, because we're going to be acting like muggles while we get this place set up. Are you out of your mind?"

Percy drew himself up importantly. "It's summer, in case you've forgotten, and you're underage."

"And here I am, in the presence of two supposedly adult witches and wizards, behind anti-muggle wards. What's your point?"

"The point is, you're not allowed to use magic during the summer!"

"Try selling that line of bullshit to someone who doesn't know better, bub. I have actually read the complete text of the 'Reasonable Restriction of Underaged Sorcery', and I'll be damned if I'm going to allow you or anyone else to hold me to standards even the muggleborn aren't expected to bide by." 

Having said his piece, Harry drew his wand, and vanished some of the rubbish on the floor. 

Percy looked like he was ready to march over and snatch Harry's wand away, before turning him over his knee, but Penny elbowed him and gave him a 'what gives?' look, which stopped him in his tracks. 

"Perce? What's your problem?"

"He's not allowed to be doing magic!"

"Actually, so long as we're here to supervise, he is. He was right about that, which is something you should know. I know full well you, your brothers and sister don't completely forgo magic over the summers, at least so long as you're on your property with you mum, anyway."

"That's completely different! Harry Potter lives with muggles, he's not allowed!"

"Perce, in case you missed it, he's not with his muggles, or in his house. I don't know what your problem is, but get over it." 

Penny went to another part of the floor to begin vanishing rubbish and cleaning as well. Percy rubbed his head a moment, wondering why he'd had such a reaction to Harry's use of magic--he was right about the full text of the Restriction, and Penny was right as well about the location. All he knew was that Harry Potter wasn't allowed to use magic…but that was just silly, wasn't it? Feeling somewhat disquieted, he went to his own spot on the floor to begin cleaning as well. 

Over the next hour, a number of the other kids from the 'corporation' meeting arrived, as did a number of large crates, delivered by a lorry of all things--one, moreover, being driven by a goblin. 

It had to be magical; he couldn't imagine the goblin could actually reach the pedals. 

 

The crates were left on the loading dock, to be unpacked. Now that the floor was clean and free of rubbish, they could install the new floor. The kids extracted what looked to be a long rolled mat of some sort, and carried it to the far end of the floor, and laid down so it fit snugly against the wall and corners. It was unrolled bit by bit and smoothed as they went, until it covered the entire floor. The girders holding up the roof in places seemed to be no hindrance, as the mat just seemed to ignore their presence. 

"We got several settings on the floor." Harry explained, while tapping the mat with his wand. "Marble", "Wood", "Grass", "Flagstone". With each tap, the mat covering the floor changed. "We figured that should be plenty for variety." He tapped again and the mat went back to its original look. "I guess we should just leave it like this while we finish up. Let's get the rest finished, shall we? Who wants to be on paint detail and who wants to be on lights?"

"I'm still not real comfortable on a broom. I'll stick to paint, thanks." Neville offered, while grabbing one of the cans. 

While they were busy painting and installing colored lights and disco balls, Alex, Graham and Katie Bell arrived in another truck--a rental moving truck this time. 

"Well, this is quite a set-up you kids have here. It already looks pretty good--odd floor though."

"It's magical flooring. It'll turn into marble, wood, grass or flagstone on command."

"Cool. So, where do you want this stuff?"

"Did you have any trouble getting it to work?"

"After computers and phones, a DJ sound system was a piece of cake."

"Great. Let us just get the last of the paint and the light fixtures in, and then we'll set up the dj booth."

Graham and Alex nodded and took seats on the crates they had brought, while Katie wandered around to see what everyone was doing. The walls were now white, with splashes and swirls of bright color in abstract patterns across them. The metal girders holding up the roof had been transfigured into fanciful totem poles, and the ceiling was a rainbow array of lights, interspersed with white flood lights so the clean up crew could see well at night's end, and in case of emergency.

The dj booth was unpacked once they were done; even shrunken, it still took a couple of them to levitate it into place and enlarge it. Once it was firmly in place, Graham and Alex got to work setting up the sound system, while the rest of them began unpacking and setting up the bar. The bar, like the dj booth, was pre-made and shrunken. It simply had to be levitated into place, enlarged and fastened. Once that was done, all that was left was to unpack the bar stools, and the boxes and boxes of cups, mugs and wine glasses and get them put into place. They were only partway done, but the place had already been transformed. 

"Alight, everyone! Good work today. Tomorrow we should be getting deliveries of the entrance booth, office furniture, tables and chairs. The day after that should be alcohol. Percy, Penny, you'll have prospective employees showing up the week following for interviews, and after that, it's showtime. We should probably put up flyers or something announcing the grand opening…oh well, we've got time. Guys, how's the sound system?"

Graham smiled and turned it on. The pureblood kids' eyes all widened at the wall of sound surrounding them--and of course, the music. Most of them had never heard its like before. Several of them started cheering, and a few even started dancing. Penny jumped on Percy and started snogging the life out of him--she could already see the galleons flowing.   
Harry called Oddment, who was more than happy to supply lunch for everyone. They had an impromptu party to celebrate the first stage of opening their own business, which lasted long into the afternoon. 

 

Harry had his new clothes for the coming year. He packed his trunk, and did a quick once-over of the room to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything, before making his way downstairs. "Alright, Aunt Petunia, I'm heading out."

"I didn't hear your godfather's motorcycle."

"I'm taking the bus to London. He hasn't gotten back from his honeymoon just yet."

"You're going to be in the house alone?" she demanded sharply.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but answered easily enough.

"No, there's a house elf, and his friend Remus still lives there. It's a big house, he has the room."

"Oh. Will the Finch-Fletchleys…"

"Yeah, they'll be having the annual back-to-school party on the 31st, same as usual. See you then."

Petunia nodded and went back to watching her soaps. 

As Harry headed down towards the park, away from prying eyes, he could only shake his head in bemusement. "You'd almost think she cared."

 

The house was empty and silent when Harry arrived, much to his surprise, though Oddment appeared suddenly in front of him mere moments later. 

"Young master! Oddment was not expecting you for another week!"

"Psh. Yeah, like I'm going to stay with the Dursleys the whole time, please!"

Oddment simply nodded--he hadn't been given any orders that said the young master couldn't stay, after all. He took Harry's trunk and vanished upstairs to begin putting his things away. Harry wandered into the library and found himself a table to work at. He'd been so busy all week setting up the nightclub, he'd put off doing his summer homework. He figured he'd best get that out of the way first. 

While it was true his homework needed doing, he also knew he was procrastinating--the very fact that he was using the Black library rather than his own, which he was more familiar with, was proof of that much. He was a bit resistant about going up to his room.

There were horcruxes up there. He knew they needed dealing with, the sooner the better, but he could admit he wanted to put it off as long as possible. His mind still skittered away from remembering how much it hurt to undo them. 

He supposed, if he were smart, he'd just let Barty, Remus and Sirius fiendfire the last of them and just get it over with. True, that wouldn't help him much, but at least he could go to his death peacefully without further pain. 

His deadline was only six months away. He wondered whether having your head cut off would hurt--or would it happen so fast you'd just be dead and not notice? Would they put him to sleep, or would that not be a proper warrior's death?

"Geez Harry, way to be morbid."

With difficulty, he put all thoughts of horcruxes and his impending death aside, and tried to concentrate on getting his homework done.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry moves ahead with his mission, works on a book, and feels betrayed

It had been a week, and Sirius and Adeline were supposed to be back sometime that day or the next--he couldn't recall them actually giving him a date and time. He found he was quite looking forward to it. While it had been sort of neat being completely on his own the last week, it got sort of lonely after a while, even with having Oddment and the portraits to talk to. Remus, he'd found out the day he'd shown up, had gotten hired as the new DADA teacher and had moved out and moved into his quarters at Hogwarts. Dumbledore, Filch, Trelawney, and Stan all stayed there all summer as well.

He'd gotten a lot done. He'd gotten his summer homework out of the way, he'd worked in the garden and harvested some potions ingredients. He'd put an entry into his family grimoire about horcruxes, why they were bad and his experiences with them thus far. He'd organized all his various notebooks and cross-indexed them, he'd gotten started on making a 'harvest alarm' for the garden with the help of a couple of the portraits, he'd written to Bathilda Bagshot to inquire about the progress of the book they'd discussed, gone to visit Lestrange Castle, which was another property he owned. 

The place was huge, and pretty fancy, and had a whole lot of rooms. He wanted to live in his family home when he was out of school, so it would be sitting empty unless he found something worthwhile to do with it. He thought it would make a good corporate headquarters someday--once they had enough going on to justify such a place anyway.   
He'd gone wandering Diagon Alley a few times--in disguise, naturally. 

He'd even dosed himself with elixir of life--while Oddment was on standby with a pre-measured dose of aging potion--to see if he could get rid of the horcrux that way so he wouldn't have to face undoing those remaining. 

It didn't work--the elixir only touched the body, not the soul. 

He was a little taller, a little heavier, and a little healthier, so it wasn't a complete loss, but it was a disappointment all the same.

He had also, in a fit of teenage curiosity, experimented a bit with a henged shadow clone. It was completely brilliant--at least until the thing popped. It was beyond weird to have memories of a sexual encounter, however tame, from both perspectives at once. He wasn't sure whether he'd try it again or not…

Alright, he probably would, even if it was weird. Damn his hormones and his curiosity anyway.

 

At the moment, he was sitting in his room, staring balefully at the closed sketchpad on his lap. He had put it off and put it off, but he really needed to get moving on the horcrux issue if he didn't want his head cut off on the 31st of December. He took a deep, fortifying breath and opened the book, to reveal the picture of the voldemorts. 

The kid was in the main chamber, looking bored. He was conjuring blocks of different sizes and shapes and sending them floating in patterns around his head. He flipped the picture and found teen mort laying sprawled across his bed looking bored as well. He flipped the picture back over and sent a brief prompt to the kid, who on his next conjuration, produced Slytherin's locket. Locket Voldemort came with him. 

He was still as creepy as the last time he'd seen him: his skin sagged oddly as though it were preparing to slough off completely. His formerly ivory pallor was now a sickly grey-white. His hair looked to be receeding, and his eyes were more red than not. His lips and nose were oddly distorted, as though parts of them had rotted away and then healed over into shiny scar tissue. He was gruesome—like a newly risen zombie from a b-grade horror movie; before the excessive rotting and mindless search for brains really kicked in. 

The kid asked him how he'd been made, and Locket-mort answered. He had killed a muggle tramp. 

Harry concentrated on the picture and bit by bit he remembered the man--elderly, homeless, probably senile. He was old, completely alone in the world, sickly, living in a box in an alley. One of the world's forgotten people. There was no psychotic episode, no pre-exisiting emotional ties. The man was simply there, and he'd killed him because he could, because he didn't matter--he was only an old muggle after all. It was a tragic end to a tragic life. Voldemort denied the man even basic humanity--he was just a convenient thing that was there to secure his immortality just a bit more. 

The worst part was the way the old man's eyes lit with hope when Voldemort came to a stop in front of him. People normally just walked by and didn't see him…that hope had turned to such resignation as the light left his eyes…

Pain tore through him like a tsunami, and it was all Harry could do to hold on to himself. It was something of a relief to just let go and let the blackness take him.

 

"Man, you weigh a ton."

"Oh, yes, thank you ever so much."

Sirius set Adeline down and then pretended his back was broken, which naturally earned him a displeased swat on the head from his new bride.

"You're just like your father. He did the same thing to me when he carried me across the threshold" Walburga confided from her portrait. "You're both looking well, but then you were on your honeymoon."

"The beaches of the Riviera are lovely this time of year." Adeline agreed. "And the company was nice as well." Sirius, naturally, leered at her and waggled his eyebrows, which earned him another swat, though she was smiling. 

"I guess I'd best go get Harry. He's probably crawling up the walls by now."

"I think he's still in his room."

Sirius hesitated as he was about to turn for the door. "In his room? What…here? Harry's here?"

"Yes. He's been here for a week now."

"But…what's he doing here?"

"It's his home, is it not? Surely you didn't expect the child to stay with muggles this whole time?"

"They're his relatives."

"They should be in Azkaban." Walburga snarled, her face dark. "It's a miracle he turned out as well as he did. Even if they have reformed somewhat, he still doesn't like it there--wouldn't go there at all if they weren't thieves as well as unfit guardians for a wizard child. I don't see what the problem is. He's not like you were as a child, full of inane plots and mischief. He's a well-behaved, responsible child with a good head on his shoulders. He's been perfectly fine." 

Sirius could only gape at his mother in astonishment. He had known, of course, that Harry seemed to get on bizarrely well with his mother, but it was still strange to hear such a ringing endorsement of a child--let alone a half-blood child--from her. 

"What's done is done. The house seems to be standing, at least." Adeline joked. She also made a mental note to talk to Walburga's portrait at length about Harry another time--she seemed to know far more about Harry's time with the Dursley family than Sirius did. 

"I'm still going to give him hell about it. He's twelve, for Merlin's sake. If he wanted to leave his aunt's house so bad, he should have gone elsewhere."

"Oddment."

Oddment appeared suddenly, with a damp, bloody rag in his hand. 

"Master and Mistress have returned! Oh, happy day!"

"Oddment…is that blood?"

"Yes. The young master is being unconscious." 

"WHAT!"

Oddment wrung his hands at their shout. "He is telling Oddment he would be. Oddment has put him to bed and cleaned the blood up from his forehead. Young master said he would wake in a few hours and be fine." 

Sirius' face paled. "Did he have a picture?"

"Yes, master. He is having a picture in his hands when he is screaming."

"Screaming!?" Adeline gasped. "Sirius, what is going on?"

"My godson is an impatient idiot, that's what." he answered distractedly as he started taking the stairs two at a time. Adeline hurried after him. 

 

Waking up was like trying to claw his way out of deep water. Light stabbed his eyes as they fluttered open, and made his tender head ache. He felt like he'd been trampled underfoot by a herd of centaurs. He closed his eyes with a wince, and whimpered in spite of himself.

"HARRY!"

Harry winced harder, so Sirius made an attempt to modulate his voice. "Harry. How are you? How do you feel?"

"hurts"  
"What hurts, Harry?"  
"everything"

He could dimly hear the sound of a stopper being pulled, and then the sharp, acrid smell of a pain relieving potion beneath his nose. Warm hands slid beneath his head and shoulders and helped him sit up enough to drink down the potion. It seemed to take an age for it to start taking effect. Even that small effort was too much after his ordeal. The darkness swamped him under once more. 

"He seems to be asleep this time, not unconscious." Adeline said quietly as she set aside the empty potion vial. Sirius smoothed a bit of pain cream over the inflamed scar that seemed to pulse on the child's forehead, and then pulled his covers up to tuck him in more firmly. 

As Adeline moved to stand beside him, she saw the edge of a drawn picture sticking out from under the bed. She remembered Sirius specifically asked if he'd had a picture when Oddment said he was unconscious…

She summoned the thing to hover in front of her so she could see it, wary of touching the thing after seeing the state little Harry was in. 

"What on earth? Why does he have such a morbid picture?"

Sirius tore his gaze from Harry's bloodless face with difficulty. "Huh? Morbid? What?"

"He has a picture of a…well, it looks to be a dead child in the Chamber of Secrets."

Sirius plucked it from the air, ignoring her squawk of protest. "At least there's that much." he growled, before flipping the picture over. Adeline grimaced. There seemed to be a dead teenager sprawled across a bed on the other side, along with what looked to be an empty classroom.

"Sirius, what is going on here? Why does he have a picture of dead children and what does it have to do with the condition he's in?"

Sirius laughed hollowly as he climbed to his feet, picture still in hand. "Now that is a long story. I'm not sure I'd believe it myself had I not seen the proof of it with my own eyes."

"I've got time. Tell me."

Sirius did a quick glance around the room for portraits or fireplace, before motioning her to join him a short distance from Harry's bed behind a silencing spell so they wouldn't disturb Harry's rest. 

"Most of this I only know from what little Harry told us, and that was little enough. You'll learn before long that sometimes getting information out of that kid is like pulling teeth… Based on what he told us, Remus and I and later Barty did our own research to supplement the little Harry figured out on his own. Have you ever heard the term horcrux?"

 

Harry woke, still feeling rather worse for wear. Judging by the light outside, it was early in the day, which could only mean he'd slept the entire previous day away. It was worrisome. The horcruxes seemed to be taking a greater toll on him with each one he undid. There were still two left to undo--and one of them was in him. That one, at least, he'd be getting more direct feedback from. He was beginning to worry that the last one would kill him outright--he might not have to worry about having his head cut off. He'd had a hard enough time steeling himself to take care of the locket. With this proof that the toll was so much greater the further he went, it was going to be just that much harder to force himself to finish the job. He was in no hurry to die; he wasn't even quite thirteen yet--his birthday wasn't until the end of the month. He'd be thirteen and a half come year's end. He had a whole life ahead of him, and there was so much he hadn't yet had a chance to do. 

Letting out a despondent sigh, he forced himself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to get cleaned up and ready for the day. 

The sight of himself in the mirror wasn't the least bit comforting. His face was pale and bloodless, his scar was inflamed, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like an invalid coming off a long sickness. It didn't help that he was shuffling around like an old man. 

The hot water of the shower helped, but he was still feeling far from his best. 

As he made his way downstairs, he could hear voices coming from the parlor. He centered himself and tried to put on a cheerful face. He wasn't much in the mood for company with how he was feeling, but he didn't want anyone becoming alarmed or fussing over him either. He could still remember all too clearly Remus and Sirius' freakout over the last horcrux he'd undone, and he certainly didn't want a repeat. 

When he reached the door, he steeled himself to put on a convincing show of being fine.

They had a full house, it seemed-- Arcturus, Remus, Barty and Dora. 

"Hello everyone." 

"Hey, kiddo, there you are. Imagine our surprise when they told us you were still sleeping. I thought you were mister early riser?" Dora teased.

"I'm almost a teenager. I figured I'd best get a headstart on sleeping in and being a moody layabout." 

Arcturus and Dora both snorted in amusement, but Sirius, Adeline, Remus and Barty looked worried. Great.

"So, what's going on?"

"Just saying hello, and filling everyone in on the fallout of the wedding." Barty answered.

"Fallout? What fallout is that?"

"Haven't been reading the paper?"

"I put a hold on my subscription while I was at the Dursleys. I haven't restarted it yet."

"Ah, that explains it. Apparently the Ministry got word of the wedding party spilling out into the town and wasn't best pleased about it. They sent out a couple of teams of obliviators to hit everyone in town and they fined everyone at the wedding for secrecy violations. We were able to get it overturned because they apparently sent fine notices to even the muggles on the guest list. They got nervous when we mentioned that they themselves had been far more in violation than any of us had, but there's still been noises made about putting forth a bill to outlaw the seasonal dances."

"WHAT!" Harry squawked.

"Well I agree it's hardly an ideal state of affairs, but hardly the end of the world." Remus demurred, surprised by his reaction.

"You don't understand! If they go doing stupid things like outlawing dancing, our nightclub is doomed before it even opens its doors!" 

"Come again?" Sirius asked tiredly.

"What nightclub?" Dora demanded.

"What do you mean what nightclub? I gave you two a flyer about it!" 

"That's your nightclub?"

"I'm part owner. Me and a bunch of my friends pooled some money together. Percy Weasley and Penny Clearwater are technically the ones in charge of the operation. This is a disaster! The goblins are part owners too. If they hear they're trying to outlaw dancing there might very well be another goblin rebellion, because they'll be sure it's being done just to stick it to them for trying to expand their operations!"

"The goblins are part of this little scheme of yours? How the hell did that happen?"

"You know Griphook? He's apparently my cousin or something. He's been handling things."

"Griphook's our cousin?" Dora asked.

"Well…I don't know if he's your cousin. He's my cousin through the Potters, not the Blacks."

"When the hell did all this happen?"

"What, Griphook? A long time ago. We're actually pretty distant cousins."

"The nightclub, Harry."

"Oh, that. Before we all left school in June. We were setting up the place while I was at the Dursleys."

"You're something else kid. You don't find many twelve year olds setting up businesses" Barty laughed.

"It was very foolish to make deals with goblins though. People have lost their heads from making ill-advised deals with goblins." Arcturus scolded. 

Remus and Sirius' faces went bloodless, and for a moment Adeline swayed in her seat. Arcturus, seeing this, was quick to reassure them. "It may not be as bad as we fear. Do you have a contract or anything? We'd best see what the damage is."

Harry dug out a copy of the contract everyone had signed and handed it over. Adeline and Arcturus spent some time reading through the thing, before finally sitting back looking both relieved and surprised.

"You were very lucky. It's a fairly straightforward contract. They don't seem to have even slipped through any trick clauses or nasty penalties."

"Because they're treating me as kin. They save all that for regular wizards, apparently, as a preemptive measure against expected wizard shenanigans."

"How the heck did you manage that?"

"By treating them like people, being straightforward and offering mutually beneficial opportunities." 

"Out of the mouths of babes. One wonders how many problems between goblins and wizards could have been prevented had such guidelines been followed." 

"All or most of them. Professor Binns drones on and on about the various goblin rebellions, and I can tell you, speaking as a wizard, that there was a lot of dodgy stuff on our end. There was a lot on the goblin end too, they're hardly innocent, but we can hardly claim to have clean hands in all the various messes." 

A yawn suddenly cracked his jaw and he blinked at all of them sleepily.

"Still tired there, squirt? What, are you due for a massive growth spurt or something?"

"I hope so. I'm pretty sure I'm the shortest boy in my year. I'm desperately afraid that I'm actually the shortest boy in school." Harry said mournfully. 

"You're well within average for your age, Harry. I'm sure you're worrying yourself for nothing." 

"Says the girl who would rather be terribly clumsy than short. No one even cares if girls are short!" 

"I'm not that short!"

"Whatever you say, Jade." 

"ARGh!"

 

Sirius found Harry sitting on the balcony overlooking the garden. He was draped across the balustrade, staring at the clear blue sky with a look of longing on his face.

"Hey, kiddo. You alright? We haven't seen much of you lately."

"I want to go flying."

"You'll have to wait till you're back at Hogwarts, I'm afraid. Flying in the middle of London is a big no-no."

"I'm well aware of that, thanks." 

"No need to get snippy, kiddo." 

"I can't help it. It just really occurred to me that this is what the rest of my life is going to be like, once I'm out of Hogwarts--if I survive the coming year that is"

"Don't even joke about that" Sirius cut in sharply.

Harry continued on as though he hadn't heard him.

"Can't fly--too many muggles about. Can't dance--too many muggles about. Can't apparate--too many muggles about. There'll be even more by the time I'm an adult. Population growth is exponential. Soon, there won't be anywhere at all that you can go to just be. We'll all just be stuck in our odd corners, sprouting wrackspurts and staring at the walls. It doesn't seem like much to look forward to." 

"Wow. You're just Johnny sunshine today, aren't you?" 

Harry just sighed again, still staring at the sky. 

"Seriously, kiddo, what's with you lately?"

"I still have two horcruxes to undo before year's end, and they're getting harder each time. If I survive that, I'll have four and a half years of Hogwarts left afterwards…and what then? Our world is just going to get smaller, and the smaller it gets the more constrained we'll all be. The clock is already ticking. Sooner or later we're not going to be able to hide anymore, and what then? It just really hit me that this is probably going to be the best years of my life. All I can see it that life post Hogwarts seems pretty bleak. I was trying to find things to look forward to, and all I did is end up depressing myself. I wish there was someplace we could all go and just be wizards, you know?"

With a last despondent sigh, Harry peeled himself from his seat and shuffled from the balcony. 

"I'm going to my room." 

Sirius rubbed tiredly at his face and let him go. 

Adeline looked up from her book when he entered the parlor, and then set it aside. "Something wrong?"

"Harry. Apparently he's going to be a morose, depressed teenager, rather than a sarcastic, horny, boneheaded teenager."

"He's depressed?"

"Looks that way. He seems to think all that's left for his future is wrackspurts and staring at the walls." 

"Sounds…enthralling."

"It's rather worrying. He seems half convinced he's going to die getting rid of the horcruxes, and if he doesn't, he thinks he has nothing to look forward to."

"Rather out of character. From what I've seen of him so far, he always seemed to be full of plans and ideas."

"Yeah. I really hope this is just a phase. A short one. I'm not sure I can take years of him slinking around the house and sighing all time." 

 

Harry flopped across his bed when he reached his room and stared sightlessly at the canopy of the bed. He wasn't sure why he was so out of sorts. Actually, that was a lie. He was exhausted, in spite of having slept an entire day away. More than that, everything he'd just told Sirius was true. He'd been trying to psych himself up by thinking of things to live for, a future to look forward to--but all he could see was a lifetime of being trapped. 

Since the Melting Pot had started, he'd been encouraging all his classmates to really embrace their magic and consider the possibilities. The truth was, outside of Hogwarts there were few places left where they could actually do that. He wanted to go flying in the worst way--he couldn't. They had practiced building houses. They would never be allowed to actually erect a house anywhere--the Ministry would stop anyone who tried, probably fine them, possibly arrest them. Anyone who complained would be told to go buy a nice muggle house and let the Ministry ward it for them, install a floo--no muggle repelling charms though, which meant anyone living in that house would be constantly worried and on guard that muggles might show up unexpectedly and see something they shouldn't. He had a bit of space in Godric's Hollow--but not much. He wouldn't really be able to fly much there either. Even the Weasleys, who had it better than most, could only play quidditch so long as they were constantly aware of their surroundings, and watched how high they were going. 

He didn't want to live life in a cubicle, answering inter-office memos, never using his magic. Even imagining it, he felt like the walls were closing in on him. 

He rolled to his side, and saw his Voldemort picture was laying on the desk. 

He wished there was some way to go somewhere else. He'd visited another world once, though only with his mind. He hadn't been back since just before Hogwarts. He still wasn't sure quite how he'd managed it in the first place, and so hadn't the first clue how one could even attempt to bodily visit another world. 

His gaze focused on the picture again, and he had a sudden, marvelous idea. 

Even Dumbledore, who utterly despised Voldemort admitted the man had been a genius at one time. 

He slowly sat up, eyes on the picture, and wondered.

He went and fetched it, before laying back on his bed. The kid and teen were in the 'classroom', though neither seemed to be doing much in the way of work. He focused on the picture, and thought about travelling to other worlds. 

The teen came out of his daydream and looked at the kid curiously, before leaning back in his chair, lost in thought. 

Much to Harry's delight, he really seemed to be considering the idea. 

Still lost in thought, the teen wandered towards the blackboard and started writing. He studied what he'd written, frowned, erased parts of it and added some more, before erasing that as well. Harry grinned, and then laid down to take a nap. He dreamed of wide open spaces and the promise of freedom.

 

"Good morning!"

Sirius and Adeline exchanged a look before turning back to Harry, who was dishing up breakfast from the sideboard. 

"Good morning. You seem to be feeling better."

"Yeah, I guess. Has the paper come yet?"

Sirius held up the folded Daily Prophet that was next to his plate.

"It's right here, why?"

"The nightclub had its grand opening last night. I wanted to see if it got covered."

Sirius handed over the paper, which Harry eagerly opened and began flipping through.

"HA! It did…let's see…decadent, huh? Boy, wizards are a bunch of old prunes sometimes. It works in our favor though. Probably nothing will do more to draw out the twenty-somethings and the newly-of-agers more than saying the club is decadent. They'll probably be coming in droves now." Harry chortled to himself. "Opening night seems to have been a hit. I wonder what the take was? I hope it was good, or all my friends will probably be calling and complaining. "We gave you all our money and we didn't make a profit. I thought we were going to get dividends?"

He read through the rest of the article quickly and then handed the paper back to his godfather.

"Can I have it back when you're done? I want to put the article about the club in my scrapbook."

"You have a scrapbook?"

"Sure I do. Why wouldn't I? I've got all the ads, the article about our book-signing, ads for the merchandise. I'm building a collection."

"Ah."

"Whoa, is it that late already? Damn." Harry suddenly exclaimed as he checked his watch.

"Hot date or something?"

"No, I've got a cauldron of anti-obliviation potion going and it's almost time for the next step. It probably would have been ruined if I hadn't of checked the time."

"Why are you making that?"

"According to Susan, Arthur Weasley obliviated me. I don’t intend to let that…stand. You know this already." Harry said with sudden realization. "Don't bother lying, I can see it on your face. You knew and didn't bother telling me or pointing me towards the potion. I had to find out everything myself. I don't believe you!"

"Harry…"

"Don't Harry me! This is a betrayal plain and simple."

"Harry!"

Harry just held up a hand, and wouldn't look at him as he marched from the room.

"You knew he'd been obliviated and didn't tell him?" Adeline demanded. "Did you not care what might have been taken from him?"

"I was just following grandpa's advice. He told me not to make waves. No one's even supposed to know about it. Honestly the only reason I do know is because of Andi. Dora was observing the interrogation--part of her auror training. Fudge decided to let the obliviate stand and ordered everyone to keep mum about it. She told her mum and swore her to secrecy. Andi told me, I told grandpa, and he told me to keep my head down and my mouth shut. I had just been released from Azkaban not long before, and they didn't want me getting thrown back in. They made me promise to leave it alone. You want to be mad at someone, go yell at grandpa."

"I intend to." Adeline growled before marching off. He followed her out and found his mother's portrait sneering.

"You, my son, are an idiot."

"Yes, thank you mother." Sirius snarked back.

"How could you have let such a thing stand? I can understand your grandfather cautioning you not to go kicking in any doors, but to not tell the boy, or try to undo the obliviate and find out what was hidden? What's wrong with you? You don't allow enemies that sort of ammunition. The child should have had the obliviation undone and been questioned thoroughly!"

"I wasn't too worried about it, it was just Arthur!"

"A Weasley. A bloodtraitor. A lackey of Dumbledore. You, my son, are a fool, and you'll be lucky if your godson ever speaks to you again." 

"Oh, he'll understand and forgive me in time."

"Like he's forgiven "Jade"?" she asked archly.

Sirius began looking uneasy. 

"A fool." Walburga repeated before retreating behind her curtains.

 

Harry worked mechanically to finish the potion and fill several vials with the finished product. At the moment, he was numb, but he could already feel the numbness wearing off. He was hurt, he was furious--both at Sirius and at himself. He should have known better. There was no such thing as a trustworthy adult, and yet somehow, in spite of his better judgment, he had started to trust Sirius anyway. He'd always wondered, if push came to shove, who Sirius would side with--himself, or the powers that be. Well, he now had his answer, didn't he?

He had to set down the ladle and the vial he was about to fill when his hands started shaking. It took him several minutes to find his meditation calm place. It would be nice if he could just stay like this all the time. Nothing hurt when he was like this, and nothing worried him, or scared him. Everything was distant, calm, empty. 

When his shakes finally stopped, he finished filling the last of the vials and took the cauldron to the sink to scrub out. Having such mindless work helped him hold on to the emptiness; a Pavlovian response leftover from his time with the Dursleys. Just work; don't get angry, don't get upset, just push it all down and keep all expression from you face.

He could feel the edges of his calm place wobbling; he never thought he'd have to invoke any of the laws of living with the Dursleys when he was here. 

He should have known better.

He pushed everything away but the cauldron in front of him, and bit by bit pushed the wobbly edges away.   
When the cauldron was scrubbed clean, he put it on the rack to dry and then grabbed a small carrying case for the half-dozen vials of potion he'd made then slipped it into his pouch.

Just in time, it seemed. He could hear Sirius outside the door. He'd hoped making the door invisible to anyone over twelve would gain him more time. 

He saw the doorknob begin to turn and impulsively leapt upwards. 

Sirius opened the door and stepped inside. "Harry… Harry?"

He swept his gaze across the empty potions lab and strode towards the supply cupboard at the far end of the room.   
Behind him, Harry let go of his chakra-fueled grip on the ceiling and landed with barely a whisper of sound, and was out the door. He ghosted through the house, out the front door and called the Knight Bus. With a 'bamf' and a puff of smoke, the bus, and Harry, disappeared.

 

"Harry's gone."

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"I mean he's not in the house. He seems to have finished his potion, cleaned up and left."

"Step aside, I'm coming through." Arcturus growled from the fireplace.

Adeline rose from where she was kneeling in front of it and moved aside. Moments later Arcturus stepped through and vanished the ash and soot from his clothing.

"OW!" Sirius yelped when his grandfather swatted him in the back of the head.

"Idiot. I told you not to make waves. I never said you should allow the obliviate to stand. Silly me, I had assumed it went without saying."

"It was just a bit of weirdness with his school letters!"

"Do we know that for a fact? No, we don't because he's still obliviated! By all that is sacred, boy, put yourself in that position and ask yourself how you'd feel to know someone messed with your mind and those around you knew and allowed it to stand!"

"The kid's paranoid enough without adding in something like this."

"It's probably because of stuff like this that he's paranoid!" Arcturus disagreed. "But we can argue about this later. Where is he likely to have gone?"

"I can try his friends. He's probably with Neville." 

"He might have gone to his parent's house." 

"Or he might have gone somewhere else completely as those two places are the first we'd likely check." Sirius concluded glumly.

Adeline sighed and moved towards the desk, where she dug out a cell phone. After a few minutes scrolling through the numbers, she found Neville's and dialed.  
While she was doing that, Sirius called Oddment.

"You is calling?"

"Go to Harry's parents' house and see if he's there." 

Oddment disappeared and reappeared moments later.

"House is being empty."

"Damn." Sirius sighed. 

"He's not with Neville, and his phone doesn't answer." Adeline informed them.

"Go get Hedwig, would you?" Sirius told Oddment.

"Owl is leaving when young master did." 

Adeline sighed ruefully and kept dialing. Sirius rubbed his face and started making floo calls.  
Oddment disappeared and then reappeared with a tea tray and biscuits.   
Arcturus huffed, sat down and made himself a cup of tea. 

 

"A lot of work goes in to writing a book, huh?"

"Why do you think I didn't want to take on such a project at my age?" Bathilda Bagshot laughed. "Although, I must admit it's done me good. I haven't felt so invigorated in years."

Harry finished making a notation on the page in front of him and then blew on the ink so it would dry.

"That's the last in my pile. The references all check out."

"Excellent. Now we just need to wait on the last section dealing with linguistic changes over time and the problem of translation, and it should be ready to head out to the publisher for final proofreading and assembly. It might be out by Christmas."

"So long? You'd think with magic it would be a speedier process."

"It is. You'll find that publishers like to put out new items just before Christmas so they get the benefit of holiday gift giving, and in summer, when people have a bit more free time, not to mention bored children at home. Of course, with the subject being dark magic, they might put it out well before Christmas to avoid a controversy…although, if they think a controversy might generate more sales, they might just leave it on the normal schedule. I guess we'll see." 

She spent some time tidying up the manuscript they'd both been working on, and making sure she had all the pieces and that they were in order. Once the table was clear, she brought out some tea and scones.

"Would you like to write the introduction, do you think? I'll be writing one as well, though mine will be dealing more with what is actually in the book. I was thinking you could write the general introduction. The project was your idea to begin with, and I must say it was certainly worthwhile."

"What, just explain why I wanted it and all?"

"Yes, exactly. I'm sure you're not the only one out there who wondered about these things, but people are so well trained to just react badly when anyone even says the word 'dark' that no one dares say it out loud. It might help get people reading and clear up the misconceptions."

"Well, okay, I guess. If you think it will help."

"I really do."

"Um, do you want it now?"

"Now, later, doesn't really matter to me. So long as I have it before I send it off to the publisher."

"I could whip something up now, I guess." 

Bathilda got him set up at a small side table with some sheets of parchment and a quill and let him work.   
He was halfway through his first draft when Oddment suddenly popped up next to him.

"Young master needs to be coming home now." 

Harry sighed and shook his head.

"Tell your master I'm busy writing an introduction to a book on dark magic. I'll return to his domicile when I'm good and ready and not a moment before."

From her perch nearby Hedwig squawked and ruffled her feathers in agreement.  
Oddment wrung his hands and looked unhappy.

"Tell Adeline I'm perfectly safe, with a trusted adult and busy." Harry added, before waving him off. 

Oddment sighed and disappeared again.

"You never did say what brought you here in such a state." Bathilda said casually.

"My godfather knew someone had obliviated me, and not only didn't bother telling me, he was content to let it stand. I have moral objections to the whole obliviation thing in the first place. I have very strong objections when it's my own mind being messed with." 

"Ah. Well, that is a pickle, isn't it? I'm sure he had his reasons…can't imagine what they were, but I'm sure he had them." 

"I'm sure he did as well. I doubt they'll satisfy." Harry sniffed, before going back to his writing.

He finished his rough draft and recopied it neatly on a second sheet, which he waved to dry while approaching Bathilda.

"Here you go. You can give it a look-see, let me know if you think it needs to be changed and whatnot. If it does, I'll come by again."

"You're leaving?"

"Yep. Mr. Black is probably on his way here…" he trailed off as a 'crack' sounded outside the door.

"Gotta go. Come on, Hedwig." 

Hedwig flew and landed on his shoulder. They hustled for the back door as a knock sounded on the front. Bathilda took her time answering the door, not opening it till she heard the faint sound of the back door closing. 

 

Harry stepped off the Knight bus and made his way up to Lestrange castle. It was doubtful anyone would be looking for him here, they'd be more likely to check his parents' house, or call his friends. Well, they would eventually send Oddment after him again, probably with orders not to take no for an answer, but he'd likely be safe enough even from that while he was here--the castle had its own house elves, and they answered to him, not Sirius.   
The head elf greeted him when he entered.

"Hello, Pip. I'll be here for dinner. I'm going to my room for the moment, and I don't want to be disturbed until dinner. If Oddment comes to fetch me, don't let him."

"It shall be as you say, master."

"Thank you Pip. I'll see you at dinner time."

Once in the master bedroom, Hedwig made herself comfy on the headboard, while Harry made himself comfy on the bed. He drew out the anti-obliviation potions he'd made and uncorked the first.   
Regardless of what Sirius might think of the matter, it was not okay that Arthur Weasley obliviated him, and he was certainly not going to allow it to stand.   
He steeled himself and downed the stuff, which was thick and pink and looked rather like liquid pencil eraser. He gagged as it was going down--it was gloopy, and tasted rather like cabbage with a hint of beets. Yuck.  
He shuddered as he felt his brain itching, followed by a 'pop'. 

He was lost to the world for a few minutes as the week Arthur stole from him came flooding back.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry bonds with Narcissa, uncovers memories. Lack of communication and a host of childhood malfunctions make for a tense and bitter summer at Grimmauld Place. Harry gets an idea and makes a plan for the future.

"You're a hard boy to get a hold of when you don't want to be."

Harry stiffened and turned to look at Narcissa Malfoy, who stood framed in the doorway.

"This used to be my sister's house. I'm on the exceptions list for the wards." she explained, before moving to sit beside him at the window.

"One would think that, since I did make it so difficult to get a hold of me, that everyone would clue in that, gee, perhaps I'd like to be alone for the moment."

"You had to realize that wasn't going to happen. You're still a child. Running off like you did, naturally everyone is going to be concerned."

"And yet, there's no concern for grown men coming into my bedroom in the middle of the night and wiping away an entire week of my life. There's something screwy there." Harry scoffed in return.

"Most of us didn't know, and those who did took it as a given that it would be undone. Believe me, Sirius has gotten it from all sides for most of the day."

"It wasn't the only time. I've uncovered three so far. It's an unpleasant experience, so I took a break." 

"Three? At your age! Bad enough to have it done once!" 

"The earliest one I've uncovered so far seems to have been done when I was a baby. I have no memories prior to that, so I'm sure there's at least one more, if not several, before that." 

"What was hidden from you?"

"Plenty. My muggle relatives and I were driven out of their house by a flood of Hogwarts letters after a week of harassment. Everywhere we stopped, muggles gave us more. My uncle took us to a shack to hide, but Hagrid showed up at midnight, broke down the door, threatened everyone and tried to turn my cousin into a pig. I told him off and we went back. When I woke up in the morning all memory of it was gone, and so were the thousands of letters that had gotten dumped on us. A few years before that, my cousin and a couple of his friends were caught in nets by a cannibal hobo. Everyone in the neighborhood had their memories wiped so they only remembered that my cousin and his friends had been climbing trees and got stuck. Someone came by later and altered my relatives memories a second time so they thought I was responsible, but they left me just remembering them getting stuck in a tree. I was locked up in the cupboard beneath the stairs for two weeks without food. I very nearly died. If there hadn't of been wild pears growing nearby and a water fountain in the park I probably would have. Before that, your sister and brothers in law and Barty popped up in front of the house. The mailman was about to deliver mail and got startled. The letters flew out of his hands. Your sister and the other two got startled and opened fire on him. He exploded in chunks and scattered all over the front lawn. That's why I needed a break. I'm in their house right now. I didn't remember them before."

Narcissa sighed and stared blankly at the wall. 

"She wasn't always like that. No…actually, I'm lying. She was always high strung, and passionate and dangerous. She just became more so as she got older. She did change though. Family was always important to her, and yet, when our cousin Regulus died she asserted that he got what he deserved for daring to question the dark lord. She never brought up Andromeda or Nymphadora, and I can only be thankful for that. I've no doubt that, were she told to kill them both, she would have done so without question. It rather terrified me, after I had Draco. Once, the idea that I might have to fear her would have been ludicrous, but she changed so much. She worshipped the dark lord. When she went to prison…as much as I hated the idea of my sister being in that place…there was a small part of me that was relieved that it was over."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she covered her mouth as though she couldn't quite credit the words coming out of it.

"Family's complicated." Harry replied, his voice equally quiet. 

"Yes. Yes it is." 

 

Narcissa waited till Harry was most of the way up the stairs before approaching the parlor where the others were all waiting.

"Cissy! What took you so long?"

"He was rather resistant to returning here with me."

"He's still gone?"

"No, he's in his room." She held out a hand to halt Sirius when he made to follow.

"I would give him his space for now. He's quite angry, and really doesn't want to talk to you."

"Stubborn brat."

"Arthur Weasley isn't the only one who obliviated him. I've heard you complain about him being paranoid and not trusting people. There's a good reason for that. Frankly, with the number of times he's had his mind messed with, it's a small miracle that he's been able to function as well as he has. It's well known that too many obliviates have a detrimental effect on the mind, and that tendency is amplified in children. As it stands now he's removed three--one at age eleven and two before age eight. He believes there's at least one more, if not several. He has no memory of his life before being dumped on those horrid muggles." 

"Three!" Arcturus growled.

"Three" Narcissa agreed. "And twice obliviates were done within his relatives home in the middle of the night. Arthur Weasley apparated right into his bedroom while he was sleeping, and attacked him when he tried to get away. He hit him with a petrificus totalis and left him lying half out of his bed. He did the same to the relatives when they came running. He then left all of them like that so he could poke around at the muggle stuff in his room, before finally taking everyone back to their rooms and obliviating them. He was left lying there, helpless to move or speak while all this was going on, and then was obliviated himself." 

She then went on to explain what all Harry had told her about the memories he'd recovered--a week of harrassment via letter, and a rampaging half-giant in the middle of the night, cannibal hobos and exploding mailmen. 

"Well, bugger." Sirius sighed. 

 

Upstairs, Harry finished warding his door and headed for his room. He didn’t want to see or speak to Sirius right now, and hoped the man had the good sense to just leave him be for the moment. It already felt like the walls were closing in on him. If Sirius pushed the issue, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. 

He headed right for his Voldemort picture to see what sort of progress he'd made on traveling to other worlds. 

The blackboard in the classroom was covered with runes and arithimantic equations. He hit the picture with a spell to magnify the blackboard and dug out his computer.  
It looked like the runic simulator and arthimancy calculator were going to come in handy. While waiting for the computer to load up, he made a copy of the stuff on the blackboard on a fresh sheet of paper, and then once the computer was ready, began painstakingly entering all the information in to see what happened. He was really going to have to step up his studies in both subjects--he couldn't make heads or tails of what he was trying to do. 

Once he had the equations loaded up, he went in search of every book he had on runes, so he could start trying to pick apart what was there before running it through the simulator. 

The kid and the teen both wandered back into the room while he was working. He fed the results from the calculator and the simulator to the kid, who wrote everything out and handed it over to the teen, who looked rather sulky once he was done reading. He sighed and wandered to the board, and began making adjustments. Harry saved the results they'd already gotten and left detailed notes with them. He wanted to be able to recreate the whole process from beginning to end if necessary.  
Once voldemort had come up with something that looked workable, he was going to try it and damn the consequences. 

Seeing that the teen was hard at work once more, Harry spent some time flipping through the runes books he'd gathered and then went to bed.  
It had been a crap day, no matter how he looked at it. He just wanted it to be over.

 

Things remained tense in Grimmauld Place over the next two weeks. Sirius threw himself into preparations for Harry's birthday with a vengeance in the hopes that it would help soften him up some. He rented out the kids' nightclub for the day, served all Harry's favorite foods, arranged for games and prizes and decorated the place within an inch of its life. The party was a tremendous success--everyone had a great time, Harry and Neville were smiling and jovial through the whole thing. 

He was in high spirits right up until they returned to Grimmauld Place. 

Harry's face once again became cold and blank. "Thank you for the party." 

With that, he headed upstairs to his room and wasn't seen again till the next morning, where he continued to seem more like a morose ghost haunting the house than the godson he'd come to know. 

 

Breakfast during the second week of August was interrupted by the arrival of an owl bearing Harry's school letter. 

"Well, the summer sure flies by, doesn't it?" Sirius quipped. 

"It's seemed terribly long to me." Harry answered back.

Sirius sagged, Adeline sighed.

Harry flipped through the letter, and withdrew a permission slip which he passed to Adeline. Adeline sighed again and pushed it to Sirius, who scowled at Harry and pushed the thing aside. "Maybe I'll sign it if your attitude improves." 

"I guess I'm not going to Hogsmeade then." Harry sniped back, before leaving the table in a huff. Moments later, they heard the front door slam shut. 

"Little bastard." Sirius growled.

"The boy certainly knows how to hold a grudge."

"You want to know what the worst part is?"

"What?"

"My parents are somewhere laughing their asses off right now." 

 

Harry returned two hours later, school shopping complete. The house was quiet and empty when he returned. On the one hand, he was happy enough not to have another run-in with Sirius. On the other hand, he was annoyed that he was out somewhere rather than suffering at home like he should have been. The whole thing left him in a bad mood.

Feeling surly and out of sorts, he stomped up to his room and put his new stuff away, before checking on the picture. There was a whole new series of runes and calculations there to check. He copied everything out and got the computer up and running. 

The calculator ran through the equations and a figure formed on the screen--a double ended tube that collapsed on itself, leaving only a hole in space. Harry's heart started beating faster. He brought up the runic simulator and carefully entered the dizzying array of runes and set it to run. 

The simulation ran through and Harry started laughing. 

"Doorway to another world. By Jove, he did it!" 

He couldn't help it, he leapt out of his seat and began bouncing around excitedly. Voldemort had done it--he'd given him the ticket to freedom. 

Still elated, he checked on the picture and found the teen looking smug, while being congratulated by the kid. There was just one question left to answer--was this a spell he'd made? A ritual? He'd found the way--but how did one actually translate that into practice?

The teen moved to the side of the room and did something, but the angle was wrong for him to see what. 

He quickly scrambled for a clean sheet of parchment and made another picture, showing the classroom from a new angle. The teen had made some new blackboards running down the length of the room. As he watched, the kid turned his desk to face them, while the teen began putting together plans for a device to open gateways. Harry began taking careful notes, while putting together a shopping list in his head. It was going to be delicate, painstaking work to put the device together, and inscribing all the runes correctly--they had to be perfect, or who knew what would happen. It would be worth it though. 

He had just finished putting everything away, and his head full of plans to purchase or acquire everything he'd need to make his travel device, when his bedroom door opened and Sirius entered.

Sirius sighed when he caught sight of him. He looked tired, and rather morose, but his face was stern in spite of that.

"You're grounded for the foreseeable future. I get it, you're angry. I no longer care. I've had it with your attitude and your disrespect. If you try to leave the premises again without permission, Oddment will retrieve you. I hope you like the inside of your room, you'll be seeing a lot more of it." 

Harry's door shut with a very final sounding thud.

He listened to Sirius' retreating footsteps and swallowed down his rage. It looked like he'd have to put off his shopping for material for his device until around Christmas if he was stuck here till school started, and wouldn't get to go to Hogsmeade. That was fine. He could deal. He'd spent a decade with the Dursleys and survived. He could manage three weeks. He at least had a nicer prison, and what's more, he was prepared this time. 

He moved to the tapestry on the wall and brought it down, laying it face down on the bed. On the back was a storage seal. He nicked his thumb and dragged it across the seal, and then grabbed the scroll that came out, before putting the tapestry back on the wall. He unrolled the scroll and looked it over. It was covered with a long line of seals, each of which held a small selection of fruit, cheese and crackers, sandwiches and juice boxes. If he was careful, he should have enough to last the remainder of the month, without having to delve into any of the other emergency stashes he had secreted around the room. He refused to go hungry ever again.

 

"Are you sure we should just leave him here alone?"

"When he comes down to dinner and finds he's the only person in the house, I'm hoping it will drive home to him that I'm not willing to put up with the attitude anymore. Hopefully, he'll realize that he too could have been out having a fun night on the town, but instead, he decided to be a brat and have a two week tantrum. You and I have done nothing but worry over the kid for the last few weeks. We're still newlyweds, and we should be acting like it. Tonight, we're going to ignore Harry's tantrum, and have a nice night out, just the two of us." 

" A night out without a glowering teenager does sound nice." 

"See? It's just what we both need." 

"Alright, you've convinced me." 

Sirius and Adeline were still in high spirits from their night out the following morning when they came down to breakfast. They didn't start getting concerned until they realized they were both just about done--even with having lingered and taken their time--and they'd yet to see hide nor hair of Harry.

"Sulking still, is he?" Sirius growled. "Oddment. You're not to take any meals or snacks--no food or drink of any kind--to Harry's room." Oddment simply nodded. "Yes master, it shall be as you say." he agreed easily, though somewhat puzzled, before disappearing.

"He'll stop sulking when he gets hungry enough." 

They both had things to do that day, so they got ready and were soon gone from the house.  
That evening, when they both returned, they were the only ones at dinner.

Sirius did a slow burn. "Oddment. If he tries sneaking food from the kitchen, you aren't to allow it." 

"Yes, master." 

 

The following morning at breakfast, there was again no sign of Harry.

"This is getting ridiculous! Oddment!"

"You called, master?"

"Did Harry try sneaking food from the kitchen?"

"No master. The young master has not left his room."

"Did he try getting you to bring him something to eat?"

"No mistress. He has not asked for food of any kind."

"Is he still in the house?"

"Yes master. He is being in his room still."

"What did you give him for lunch yesterday?"

"He didn't come down for lunch master."

"Has he been in his room this entire time?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen him at all?"

"Yesterday, mistress, when I is fetching the laundry." 

"Go tell him it's time for breakfast." 

Oddment nodded and disappeared. He reappeared a few minutes later.

"Is he coming down?"

"No, mistress. He is reminding Oddment that he is being punished." 

"Thank you, Oddment, that will be all." 

Sirius and Adeline exchanged a look once the house elf was gone.

"Sirius…does he know he's expected to come down for meals? Or, more to the point, does he know he's allowed to?"

"Of course he does, why wouldn't he?"

"Don't you remember what Narcissa said? He was punished by being locked in a cupboard for two weeks without food and water. If he thinks that's a normal punishment…"

"That's crazy."

"Are you sure? He hasn't left his room at all since you told him he was grounded. He hasn't asked for food to be brought to him, and he hasn't tried sneaking into the kitchen. He didn't come down for lunch or dinner the day you told him, he didn't come for a single meal yesterday, and he hasn't today either. He's a growing boy. He has to be starved by now, but he still didn't come down, even when he was outright told it was time to eat. He just reminded Oddment he was being punished." 

"Son of a…" Sirius growled, before rising from his seat. "Nothing is ever simple with him, is it?"

 

Sirius was prepared for Harry to be angry, sulky, morose, snarky, sarcastic, and everything in between. He wasn't prepared to find him unconscious on his bed, forehead covered in blood, looking dead. His heart stopped for a moment and he froze, before dashing forward to check the boy over. 

When Sirius didn't return right away, Adeline came looking for them. She expected to either find them fighting or making up. She didn't expect to find Harry unconscious in bed, with Sirius beside him looking like he'd aged a decade. 

The creepy picture from last time was once again on the floor by the bedside. She stooped to pick it up. All that was left was a dead looking child in the Chamber of Secrets. The dead looking teenager from before was gone.

"Oddment."

"You is calling, master?"

"Let us know when he wakes up."

Sirius stood, still looking bereft, and snatched the picture from Adeline's grasp, before starting for the door.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"What I should have done the first time I saw him like this. I'm going to fiend-fire the bloody thing." 

"Didn't you say that's what he was using to undo them? Doesn't he need it?" Adeline asked worriedly as she hurried after him.

"We'll find another way. Whatever he does with this thing is slowly killing him. We have five months to find an alternative." 

Sirius took them to an empty lot behind an empty building and set the picture on fire. Fiery animal shapes gobbled down the paper, growing larger in the process. Sirius exerted his will and snuffed them out before they could rage out of control.  
They stood there quietly while the wind whipped away the ashes. 

 

Harry dreamed. He didn't know where he was or who he was. All he knew was pain: buckets of it--oceans even. Shards of glass in his heart, knives in his belly, a cleaver in his head. He didn't know how to escape it, or even why it had started. All he knew was agony. He could feel himself slipping away, so he started pulling--on what, he didn't know, it was all instinctual. All he knew was that he grew stronger each time he did, though it didn't lessen the pain any.

In his bed, Harry twitched and whimpered, while he sweated and burned with fever. His scar bled, again and again. 

Sirius and Adeline kept vigil when they could. They told no one of the state Harry was in for fear that word would travel to the wrong ears and result in Harry's untimely death. For three days this continued, while Harry grew paler, and by the third day, noticeably thinner. They poured feverishly through everything they could find in the library, looking for some clue that would save the child from simply wasting away. 

While they were busy doing this, Harry woke. 

"Oddment, wait." he croaked.

"Master and Mistress wanted to know when young master wakes up."

"I need you to do something for me first. It's important."

Oddment wrung his hands and nodded once Harry told him what he wanted.  
When he reappeared, he had the bottle of elixir, and what was left of the aging solution. He directed Oddment to measure out the proper amount of solution, while he himself tried to measure out a good dosage of elixir, cursing his shaking hands all the while. He checked the dosage and downed it, reverting to baby form. 

"You is not drinking so much the last time, young master. Didn't you say is being dangerous?"

Baby Harry squealed and gestured for the aging solution. Oddment put the bottle in his mouth.

When Harry had returned to his proper age and size, he laid there tensely for several moments as though waiting for something. When nothing happened, he let out a shaky breath, and sagged back into his pillow. 

"I wasn't sure that would work." Harry whispered. "Oddment, put that stuff away, and don't mention any of this to Sirius or Adeline. When you're done, you can tell them I woke up." 

 

Sirius and Adeline raced into Harry's room, but he was once again sleeping.

"He looks better than he did. A lot better, actually." 

Sirius felt his forehead.

"He's no longer running a fever, and his scar doesn't seem quite so inflamed." 

"I don't understand. He looked like death warmed over, and now he's just fine."

"I don't get it either." Sirius admitted. "But he's okay now, that's all that matters." 

 

Harry got out of bed for the first time in days the following morning. He took a shower, and was happy to see his linens had been changed while he'd been doing so. He wasn't looking forward to laying on those sheets again after he'd spent days sweating all over them. He was debating what to do with himself when Oddment appeared and told him he was expected at lunch. Harry blinked and checked the time. He'd slept a lot later than he'd realized. 

"It hasn't been three weeks." 

"Master is saying he is wanting you at all meals from now on, no exceptions, and if you is not coming on yous own, I is to be taking yous there." 

Harry was admittedly confused--his punishment wasn't over, after all. But then he understood. The last horcrux he'd undone had been especially hard on him; they were probably afraid he was going to die or something if they didn't see him regularly. Whatever.  
With a put-upon sigh he drug himself downstairs. 

"Morning kiddo. You look a lot better." 

Harry just nodded and filled his plate. 

"How do you feel?"

"Fine." 

Sirius grimaced. Apparently the kid was still sulking. He turned to Adeline, and the two of them chatted, discussed the paper, spoke of different things going on in the world around them. Harry kept his eyes on his plate, ate mechanically, and never offered a single opinion or cheeky remark. 

"May I be excused?"

Sirius rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He honestly didn't know what to do with the kid.

"Yeah. Go." he waved him off.

Harry returned to his room as quietly as he'd arrived. The same scene was repeated at dinner, and then the next day and the next.  
Sirius sighed and did his best to quell the urge to throttle the kid. He never thought he'd say it, but September 1st couldn't come soon enough.

 

Harry glanced up, face expressionless, when Sirius entered his room. Sirius gave him a once over and his face darkened.

"We're due at the Finch-Fletchleys in an hour." Sirius said impatiently.

Harry gazed back blankly. He couldn't imagine why Sirius was telling him this. He knew very well when the party was--it was the same every year. It isn't like he'd have even noticed they were gone, what with being stuck up here; unlike the cupboard, he was pretty well out of sight out of mind of the rest of the house way up here.

"Well then I guess you'd best get a move on." Harry muttered, before turning back around in his seat and going back to his reading.

Sirius grit his teeth, and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.  
Harry flinched, found his quiet place, and tried to focus on his reading. When he realized he'd just read the same page for the third time, and hadn't absorbed any of it, he gave it up as a bad job. He set aside his book, kicked off his shoes, and crawled into bed. He stared at the wall for an hour and then fell asleep. 

 

Downstairs, Adeline hung up the phone with a sigh. 

"I've made our apologies to the Finch-Fletchleys. The party has gotten big enough, I doubt they'll miss us."

Sirius grunted from his seat behind the desk. He was brooding, with a face like a thundercloud.

"Tell me again what happened."

"The brat wasn't dressed. I told him we were due at the Finch-Fletchleys and he said 'well, you'd best get a move on' and then went back to reading. I don't know what the hell to do with that kid anymore!"

"Sirius…when you told him he was grounded…how long did you say it was for?"

"Uh…I don't remember. I think I just said I hoped he liked the inside of his room, because he'd be seeing a lot of it. For Merlin's sake, it's been three weeks now and we've barely seen him except at meals, and he had to be ordered to come to those!"

"You said he wasn't dressed for the party…and his response seems to indicate that he wasn't expecting to go, but assumed we were. Do you think he didn't realize we were expecting him to go?"

"Why the hell would he think that?"

"I've been questioning your mother's portrait about him, to find out what he told her about his life before coming here. Whenever the Dursleys went anywhere, he was left behind. His usual punishments were to be locked up anywhere from a day to a couple of weeks without food or water.  
His bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs until he was eight. It has a lock on the outside. That's where he was kept. They moved him into his cousin's _second_ bedroom when he was eight because he had a _nervous breakdown_ , and it was obvious enough that something was wrong that they were afraid someone was going to call the authorities on them, and so apparently took steps to hide how they'd been treating him.  
Apparently after this incident they eased up somewhat, though it's pretty obvious he still wasn't very happy there. Sirius, I think his early life with his relatives left him rather screwed up. I think it just wasn't obvious how much so before now because one, you never had him for very long at any one time, and two, things were usually relaxed and cheerful around here. This is the first time you've been angry at one another, and I think it's brought all his messed up childhood to the surface.  
I think we may have handled things badly, given his experiences. He felt comfortable enough to be a brat and backtalk…but once he was grounded, he assumed things would be the same as they were at his relatives house. That means no food, no leaving for any reason, no interaction with anyone, and no going anywhere. Neither of us told him his punishment was over, in fact no timeline or ground rules were established. Given that he wasn't told he was off punishment, I think he just assumed it was still on, therefore he wasn't going anywhere, and so had no reason to get dressed for the party." 

Sirius slumped in his seat and stared unseeing at the wall.

"How did I let everything get so out of control?"

Adeline settled herself in his lap and just held him for a bit. 

"I think all three of us made a lot of assumptions and ended up working at cross purposes. Neither of us has any real experience dealing with a temperamental teenager, let alone one with a problem childhood. We were bound to make mistakes. However, now that we know that we have, we can do better next time. It's obvious we're going to have to work on communication. We're going to have to spell things out, especially if it seems obvious. We can't take for granted that we're all on the same page. We're going to have to make an effort to make sure he knows that, even if we're angry and annoyed at him, it doesn't mean we don't want him around or see him as a burden. We're definitely going to have to lay out ground rules for punishments and make it clear that grounding doesn't equal no food, and we'll have to make sure to set definitive limits on the time." 

They spent awhile talking over what was to be done about Harry and how best to approach things. When Oddment called them for lunch, they headed for the dining room, resolved to talk when lunch was over. 

"Oddment? There's only two settings."

"The young master has already eaten."

"He did? When? I didn't see him or hear him."

"He is still being in his room, master."

"I told you not to take food to him upstairs."

"Oddment has not done so."

"Where'd he get food from then?"

"From the emergency food stores hidden in his room."

"Emergency food stores?" Adeline said quietly.

Oddment nodded. 

Sirius let out a shaky breath, feeling rather sick. 

"A kid his age should have porn, or at least racy photos of teeny boppers in bikinis hidden in his room, not food."

"Does he have anything else hidden?"

"Medicine, bandages and weapons." 

Adeline closed her eyes and covered her mouth, while Sirius clenched the back of the chair he was standing behind in a white-knuckled grip. 

"Oddment, hold off on lunch for a bit, would you? Tell Harry to come down and meet us in the study."

Adeline rose without a word and followed him from the room. Neither one of them had much of an appetite at the moment.

 

When their talk was done, Sirius and Adeline watched with frustration as Harry headed back up to his room. He said he needed to pack for Hogwarts in the morning, but they still took it as a bad sign that, even after they'd cleared the air, he still chose not to linger, or take the chance offered to get out of his room. 

"I don’t know what else to do." Sirius admitted. "Is there something we're still missing?"

"I don't know. I'm as at sea with all this as you are. We can try to move things along at dinner time, I guess. What else can we do?"

"Maybe we should have confronted him about the 'emergency food stores' and the other stuff."

"I think we did right by leaving those out. We don't want him feeling threatened, or thinking we want to take away his safety net. Hopefully he'll eventually get to a point where he doesn't feel he needs them anymore."

"Let's hope so."

 

They were both rather tense come dinner time, but Harry arrived when called, without fuss or fanfare, sat himself down and started eating. They tried drawing him into conversation, but he remained unusually quiet, and didn't seem to have much to say.

"I'm surprised at you, kiddo. You normally have lots to say, especially when it comes to new laws up for review."

"I don't know anything about the law."

"It's been in the papers all month."

"I haven't read the paper all month."

"We've been talking about it as well."

"I've been in my room."

"Your friends then. I'm sure they've had something to say about it all. You're friends have always seemed bizarrely interested in what's going on in the world, for teenagers."

Harry looked at him.

"I haven't spoken to any of my friends in nearly a month either." 

"You've got your little phone thing"

"It's been turned off."

"And you have an owl."

"I sent her to the Prophet office to re-up my subscription starting September 2nd, and told her to stay with Neville for the remainder of the summer, and head to Hogwarts come the first."

"Why did you send Hedwig away?"

"She doesn't like being confined."

"When did you send her away?"

"The day after I got rid of the horcrux, when you made me come down to breakfast."

"She was in your room before that, and didn't like it?"

"Yeah."

"So why didn't you set her loose outside?"

"There's no window in my room."

"There's windows in the sitting room."

"Yeah, and what's your point?"

"Why didn't you let her out the window in the sitting room?"

"How was I supposed to do that?"

Sirius sighed, feeling tired and a bit sick once more.

"You've been just in your bedroom this entire time?" he clarified. "You didn't go into the sitting room or the library?"

"No!" 

"Harry. The door wasn't locked."  
His heart broke just a little bit when all he received was a flat, disbelieving stare in return. 

"May I be excused?"

"Harry…"

"I'm not done packing. I don't want to leave it for the morning." 

"Go ahead." Sirius sighed.

 

He pushed his remaining dinner away, appetite gone, once Harry left.

"He never even checked, did he? He just assumed he was a prisoner there, wasn't going to be fed…thought he had to smuggle his owl out so she wouldn't be a prisoner as well."

"It's rather disturbing, when you think about it. I wish Hogwarts wasn't starting up tomorrow. We won't be seeing him again until the holidays. That will make it difficult to reinforce what we've already told him. I think it's obvious he doesn't actually believe us, given what just happened."

"This is a mess. I could kill Dumbledore for ever putting him with those people. I had no idea the sort of damage they did to him."

"None of us did, really. He normally seems rather well-adjusted, if a bit odd. He's normally so fiercely independent. It seems hard to credit that he would be so compliant about what he believed to be a starvation prison sentence."

"Do you think it was intentional?" Sirius asked quietly. "Do you think this is what Dumbledore had in mind? Is this what he wanted? He was very insistent on him returning to the Dursleys. The fact that he continued to do so every year kept him quiet, but he did continue to try convincing me it was for the best that he remain there for most of the summer. He kept citing the blood wards and the necessity of keeping them up and running. When the blood wards followed him back here he was left without a leg to stand on, and truthfully, he seemed rather put out about the whole thing. If his only concern was Harry being safe, knowing the blood wards were still in effect should have made him happy. Was it just an excuse? Did he want him with the Dursleys because they screw with his head? I really have to wonder."

"I don't know, Sirius. I really don't. There does seem to be a lot of strangeness surrounding Harry though, that much is obvious. What plans, if any, he had regarding him, I couldn't say." 

"And now he'll be returning to Hogwarts for the next several months, where he'll be under Dumbledore's thumb. I can't say I'm real happy about that." 

 

The following morning, they had breakfast, and then headed out to King's Cross station, so Harry could get the train to Hogwarts.  
Sirius stepped forward to hug him, and tried not to be hurt by how the kid stiffened, and gave him a half-hearted pat on the back and immediately stepped back. He did much the same with Adeline.

"So…you've got everything?"

Harry's face, for some reason, went blank.

"Yeah."

"Okaaay… Well, have a good term. Don't work too hard. Make sure you leave time for fun." 

"Yeah, fun." Harry said quietly, his mouth making a bitter twist as he said the words. "Bye then."

"Bye, Harry." 

"Take care."

Harry nodded and stalked off towards the train, leaving two annoyed, helpless-feeling adults behind.

"I feel like we missed something there."

"Same here."

"Am I a bad person for being somewhat relieved we have a break before we have to pick this up again?"

"No, just human." 

 

"Hey! Harry! We missed you at the party yesterday."

"Oh, hey everyone. Yeah, I was grounded."

"Grounded? Why?"

Harry smiled bitterly at Justin and Susan. "Remember back when the quidditch riots were going on?"

"Yeah? What of it?"

"Remember you told me Arthur Weasley obliviated me?" he asked Susan.

"Yeah."

"And how we went looking for stuff about memories?" he then asked Justin.

"Yeah."

"I finally found a potion that undoes obliviates and I made some this summer. I found out Sirius knew and never bothered saying anything about it. As you can imagine, I wasn't best pleased about it."

"Would that be when you ran away from home?"

"I didn't run away from home. I didn't take any of my stuff with me. I just left because I was too bloody furious with Sirius to want to talk to him right then. I went to visit Bathilda Bagshot. I helped her check some citations and whatnot and proofread stuff for a book she's editing. I wrote the introduction for it too. Not bad, eh? Published twice before I'm fourteen."

"What book is this?"

"Dark Magic: A history. It should be coming out sometime between now and Christmas. I'm rather excited really. I can't wait to read it."

"I think my aunt is writing an article for that about the legal definition of dark magic over the centuries."

"Probably. There's a couple of folks doing essays dealing with particular aspects of the subject. I was helping edit a section about ancient Egyptian magic, so I didn't see any of the legal stuff."

"Wait a second…if you were mad and went to visit Bathilda Bagshot, how'd you get grounded?"

"I was still mad two weeks later, and Sirius got pissy because I didn't just forgive him already. As if I would! He betrayed me, after all. So, he grounded me for the rest of the summer." 

"Gosh…seems excessive."

"I know, tell me about it."

"Well…at least it's over now. We're heading back to school, and we're third years! You know what that means! Hogsmeade!" Susan said cheerfully.

"Yeah. You'll have to tell me all about it."

"Huh? Why?"

"I'm not allowed to go, am I?"

"What! No Hogsmeade?"

"The permission slip showed up the day I got grounded. He said he wasn't going to sign it because I have a bad attitude. So, no Hogsmeade for me."

"Gosh, Harry, that's terrible. Tough luck there, mate. I'll bring you something back." 

"We both will!" Susan promised.

"No worries. I'll just hang out with Luna or something." 

 

Harry sat up, metaphorically speaking, on high alert as he entered Hogwarts. He could feel another him in the room. He scanned the entryway. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move differently from the others. He sent his own shadow to briefly intersect it and then withdraw before anyone noticed, then turned his mind inward for a moment to examine the brief info dump he'd just gotten. While he was doing so, his attention was drawn by something across the room. Professor McGonagall pulled Hermione Granger aside and the two of them headed upstairs towards the direction of her office. As he sorted through the info-dump he smiled. 

For some reason he could not fathom, the powers that be had decided to grant Hermione the power of time travel so she could attend every class Hogwarts offered.

It was official, adults were mad and made no sense whatsoever.

Adult madness aside, it was good news. 

Hermione made a copy of the thing at the end of the year, with the intention of turning in the copy so she could study the thing at her leisure.  
At the end of the year, Harry made...would make? a copy of the fake she'd be making , and swapped out the real time turner for the fake he'd made. Hermione handed in the copy she'd made as planned, to McGongall, none the wiser. Well, at least until she'd tried to use the fake he'd given her, but as she thought it was a security feature to keep it from being kept like she'd planned to, she'd sighed and thought nothing more of it.

Come year's end, he would be able to travel back to the beginning of the year to test out the completed gate-maker.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and company's third year begins. Sirius, Adeline, Barty and Dora get a clue about some of Harry's malfunctions and discover the lingering misunderstanding lying between them. Neville is a good friend.

Neville sighed glumly when he received his schedule for the new term. Harry echoed him a moment later, and they exchanged a wry grin. They had the same schedule--classes from first thing in the morning until the end of the day, five days a week. They had each added three electives to the course load they'd had over the previous two years: Care of Magical Creatures, Arithimancy and Ancient Runes. 

"What've you got?" Ron asked curiously. Harry handed over his schedule, getting Ron's in return. Ron's schedule was a bit lighter--he'd only taken the required two electives, though in his case he'd opted for Divination and CoMC. Ron's face fell when he saw the differences, and then asked for Neville's schedule.

"Bloody hell, what's with you two taking the egghead classes? You should have done like I did and taken Divination!"

"Couldn't fit it, and anyway, unless you have a talent for it, it's kind of a waste, isn't it?"

Hermione looked up sharply at Neville's words. "Unless you have a talent for what?"

"Divination. If you don't have a seer talent of some sort, you can do all the readings you like--it doesn't mean you'll actually tell the future. It's not really something you can learn from a book."

"I'm just gonna make it up. It's an easy grade, innit?" Ron scoffed.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione seethed indignantly. "I don't believe you! Don't you care about your future at all?"

"Sure. I want to have a cushy job as much as the next bloke. I don't see how any of the other electives would help me much. Frankly, I thought Bill was barmy for bothering. Even with CoMC--I don't plan on working with creatures; I'm no Charlie. I'd have been happy enough just sticking to our old subjects and forgoing the electives altogether. I don't see why they have to force you to take more classes if you don't want to." 

He reached over and snatched Hermione's schedule off the table and gave it a quick once-over, but then his brow creased in puzzlement. "Whoa, Hermione, you're schedule is all messed up! You should…hey!" 

Hermione glared at him as she hurriedly stuffed her schedule in her bag. "It's fine."

"It is not! You got yourself listed for different classes at the same time! You can't be in two places at once!"

"Professor McGonagall knows. Arrangements have already been made. Mind your own business."  
"But you can't…!"  
"Ron! It's fine. Drop it."   
"But…"

Hermione leveled him with a basilisk glare, and Ron subsided, looking rather put out about the whole matter.  
Harry snorted, and remained unfazed when Hermione turned her glare on him.

"So, you can dish it out but you can't take it, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hermione said airily, before gathering up the massive tome she'd brought along for 'light reading' and heading away from the table to gather her things for the day.

"Barmy. That's what she is. Why the bloody hell would anyone sign up for every single class anyway? She even signed up for Muggle studies! She's muggleborn for Merlin's sake!"

"I don't know why you're surprised. You know what she's like."

"She's gonna get burned out trying to attend every class." Neville added, sounding a bit guilty.

"It won't do any good to tell her that until she actually gets overloaded. Once that happens, we might be able to convince her to drop divination and muggle studies and just do self-study over the summer. Up until then, she'll just stick her nose in the air and be condescending. Personally, I'm somewhat looking forward to her eventual meltdown" Harry scoffed.

"What do you have against Hermione anyway? What's she ever done to you?" Ron muttered.

Harry just stared at him. After a minute of this, Ron's face slowly started going red and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Alright, she's a bit of a pain where you're concerned"

"A bit?" 

"But that's no reason…"

Harry just sneered at him, and left the table as well, to go find his first class of the day. 

 

"Welcome to Defense against the Dark Arts. I'll be your professor, Remus Lupin." 

Harry grinned, his good mood restored, by the sight of Remus. He'd helped he and Neville with their extra studies over the summers occasionally, and he'd worked with him to unravel the curse on the diadem, so he knew Remus was smart, a good teacher, and he knew his subject. It was good to know DADA class would no longer be a wasted hour anymore, especially as the curse on the position was gone--not that anyone knew that aside from himself, Remus and Sirius. Now, if only they could get in a decent history teacher… he supposed he'd have to work on that next.

"I've been looking over everyone's work for the last two years. Your instruction up until this point has been rather…uneven to say the least. If everyone is willing to work hard and do their part, by year's end we should be able to get everyone to where they're supposed to be by now. We'll be working towards that goal for the rest of the year, never fear. For now, everyone put away your books, grab your wands, and follow me. Today's class will be practical."

The class stirred in excitement--it was already shaping up to be a better DADA class than they'd had thus far. 

 

Remus led them down the hall and to the staff room. Snape was inside reading a book when they all trooped in. He gave everyone a dirty look--Remus especially--and stalked out the door when they arrived. Once he was gone, Remus moved to stand at the front of the room next to a wardrobe that was standing there and addressed the class. 

"I was lucky enough to find a boggart here in the castle. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?"

More than half the students raised their hands. Hermione upon seeing this began bouncing on her toes, trying to get Remus' attention. 

"How about you there…?"

"Dean Thomas…Bonham."

"Alright, Mr. Thomas-Bonham. Why don't you tell us what a boggart is?"

"It's a shapeshifter. They feed on fear. They bring it out of you by turning into your worst fear to scare you."

"Very good, take five points for Gryffindor. Now, can anyone tell me how one repels a boggart?"

Hermione's hand shot up and she began bouncing again, as well as waving her arm.

"How about you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It's a two-fold process. First, you have to imagine something that will make it funny. There's also a spell. Riddikulus. Boggarts are repelled by laughter."

"Excellent. Take five points for Slytherin. Is there anything that Mr. Malfoy missed? Think about why we're all here in the room together… Yes, Miss Patil?"

"It will have difficulty knowing what to turn into with so many people. It won't know what fear to show."

"Wonderful. Make that another five for Gryffindor. So, who would like to be the first to try their hand at facing the boggart? Miss Greengrass, excellent, come up front here. Remember, the spell is riddikulus, say it for me now…"

"Riddikulus!" 

"Good, ready?"

Daphne nodded tightly and held her wand at the ready. Remus flung open the door of the wardrobe. A tiny, pale girl, with cloudy eyes, slightly bloated and with bits of seaweed clinging to her wet hair emerged from the wardrobe. As one, the students all gasped. It was her younger sister, Astoria, who many of them knew had very nearly drowned when she was quite little. They'd had to resuscitate her, and she'd coughed up a lot of water. Daphne had been certain she was dead, until she started coughing, and then crying.  
Daphne paled, and stood transfixed for a moment, before pointing her wand and screaming Riddikulus! Drowned Astoria turned into a clown, slipped on a banana peel and fell down. 

"Five points, Miss Greengrass, good work. Who's next?"

Hermione stepped forward and the fallen clown turned into McGonagall, who held out a piece of paper filled with 'T's' in bright red ink.

"You've failed every class. You'll have to leave school."

Hermione paled and started screaming.

"Remember, it's not real, concentrate!" 

"R-r-ridikulus!" Hermione whimpered. McGonagall's tight bun popped and frizzed into a large Afro, and her modest, floor-length witch robes became a gaudy disco outfit and platform shoes circa 1970.

"Good! Next!"

One after another kids stepped forward. The boggart became a giant spider, a massive snake, a banshee, a mummy, a vampire. Harry tried to step forward to take his turn, but Remus always seemed to be in his way, and someone else would end up going instead. 

"Keep going, keep going!" Remus urged. 

The poor boggart finally got confused and exhausted from so many transformations in such a short time and disappeared with a pop, just before the bell rang signaling the end of class. 

"Excellent work, everyone. Take another fifteen points, Gryffindor and Slytherin, for a most successful lesson. Good job." 

Harry gave Remus a dirty look and stalked from the room to go fetch his bag from the classroom. They were definitely going to be having words later.

 

History of Magic was next, which of course meant Harry had the whole hour to brood on being treated as though he were helpless and weak by not being allowed to face the boggart. Hermione had screamed and frozen, nearly dropped her bloody wand, and Remus hadn't shooed her away! It was so unfair.  
This was really shaping up to be a crap year all around. First Sirius decides to stop pretending and show his true Uncle Vernon colors, and now this. As if all that wasn't bad enough, he was going to be stuck in the castle until Christmas, while all his friends were off in Hogsmeade having fun, and then he got to spend the holiday either dying via horcrux or by the goblins cutting off his bloody head. 

It really sucked to be him. 

He couldn't concentrate on the lesson, not even reading it while Binns droned on and on, he was too distracted.

He finally gave up and worked on meditating and clearing his mind so he could get his focus back. 

After lunch was his first Ancient Runes class, though even that didn't prove to be the distraction he'd hoped it would be. He'd apparently studied too hard and too well with Barty--he already knew all the stuff they covered that day. Neville seemed to be in much the same boat; he looked downright bored. 

He nudged Neville to wait when the bell rang and went to approach the teacher.

"Professor Babbling?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Do you think you could give me some idea of what all we're going to be covering this year? It's just, Neville and I both have been working ahead a bit. We're planning on going for twelve OWLs, you see. We originally were only going to work ahead in muggle studies and divination, since we were planning on taking runes, arithimancy and care…but well, I grew up around muggles, and I already knew the whole muggle studies curriculum, and It wasn't hard to become familiar with most forms of divination, so we ended up working ahead in runes and arithimancy because we both found the subjects interesting. I guess I just wanted to know if we jumped the gun too much."

"Really? How far would you say you've gotten?"

"I read Beedle the Bard's tales in the original runic version, last summer."

Professor Babbling blinked. "Really? How about you, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yeah, I did too."

"If you're that far ahead, then chances are this class would indeed be a waste for you both. Meet me back here after dinner. I'll give you both an exam for first year ancient runes. If you can pass with an eighty percent or better, I'll see if we can move you to the second year runes class. How are your schedules?"

"Full load. We're both taking three electives."

"You said you were working ahead in arithimancy as well, correct? If you could test out of the first year class for that as well it'll be doable, otherwise you might have to just drop runes and just take the second year class next year."

"We did work ahead. I don't know what all is covered the first year though, so I don't know if we could pass or not."

"Well, Septima Vector's classroom isn't far. I'll explain to her. I'm sure she'll agree to test you both. This is actually a recurring problem. There's usually at least one twelve owl hopeful who runs into similar problems every couple of years. They actually set up the first and second year classes for us to allow for easy scheduling changes for students who are able to test out. If you don't pass with at least an eighty percent or better, I'm afraid you're stuck where you are for the year." 

"If we can't do at least that well, it's worth it to stay in this class, even if it seems like we're retreading old ground."

"A very mature attitude. Alright then, I'll see you boys back here after dinner, and we'll get your tests out of the way." 

"Thank you, professor." 

As they headed towards dinner, Harry noticed Neville looked slightly ill.

"What's with you?"

"We have a test later!"

"Nev, we've been using runes like, all the time, man. Same with first year arithimancy, I'm guessing. It should be fine. Don't get yourself all freaked out just because it's a test. If we pass, we pass and get to move on to something new. If we don't, we don't. We stay where we are and get a refresher on everything. No biggie."

"Well, yeah, there is that, I guess."

"See? No worries." 

"No worries." Neville agreed, trying to sound confident.

Harry sighed, dug out some paper and a pencil and scribbled something down, then handed the paper to Neville.

Neville glanced at it, frowned, and then glared at Harry reproachfully. "That's not very nice!"

"Nev?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Runes."  
Neville glanced back down at the paper, and then smile sheepishly.   
"No worries." he agreed much more confidently.  
"That's the spirit." 

 

They lingered at dinner until they saw Professor Babbling leave the table and then made their way back to her classroom. Folks at the Melting Pot were probably wondering where they were, which meant they'd likely get an earful from Hermione later about sneaking off. He really hoped they both passed with flying colors just so he could rub in her face that, far from doing anything nefarious, they were testing out and getting moved ahead a grade in two of their classes. It would be supremely satisfying, to say the least, just to see the horrified look on her face.   
When they arrived, Professors Babbling and Vector were both there. 

"So, these are our hopefuls, are they? Alright boys, we're going to split you up. One will come with me for the arithimancy exam, one will stay here for runes. When you're done, we'll switch. We'll try to have them graded quickly so you can make the next class meeting if you're moving. So, who wants to do what?"

Neville was dithering and getting nervous again, so Harry took the lead. "I'll come with you, professor."

"Alright then, just down the hall here."

"Mr. Longbottom, if you would?" Professor Babbling beckoned.

Professor Vector's classroom contained only desks and a blackboard that covered the whole front of the room. She directed him to a seat right in front of her desk, handed him a thick test and an anti-cheating quill.   
Harry dug out his ink and signed his name with a flourish on the top.

"You may begin."

Harry started, and was relieved to see it was indeed all stuff they had covered with Barty already: the magical properties of various numbers, figuring out the numerical values of different names. The last section was a multiple choice section all equations laying out the structure of different spells, which you had to be able to figure out from the calculation. Too easy.   
He was pretty sure he did well, and Professor Vector seemed rather surprised by how quickly he'd finished. 

"Speedy. Since you're friend doesn't seem to be finished yet, how about I get started on grading this baby? I might be able to give you your answer in just a few minutes."

"Sure."

Neville showed up before she'd gotten passed the first page. Harry headed back to Professor Babbling's classroom while Vector got Neville set up for his test.

 

Harry cracked his knuckles and got right to work on the runes test. First there was a long passage to translate into English, then a section identifying the different runes and what they meant, an ogham inscription, a bit of cuneiform, then a section he had to translate into the different runic forms. He worked through it steadily until the end, which was an extra credit section--as first glance it seemed like it was just more elder futhark runes, until you realized there were a couple of oddities--some of the runes were formed just a bit differently, and there were some non-standard runes interspersed. For extra credit, you simply needed to identify what sort of runes they were. They were goblin runes. It was a section from the "Lay of Gulruk", a goblin ballad about a goblin highwayman and his many sexy adventures. Naturally, with it being a school test, it was one of the tamer stanzas.   
Harry grinned, translated it into gobbedygook--written in the normal alphabet, and then into English just for the hell of it.  
He handed Babbling the test and sat back to wait.   
He knew the moment she'd gotten to the extra credit question, because she blinked, laughed and set it aside.

"If you did half as well on your arithimancy test I'll be seeing you in the second year class on Thursday. Why don't we go find out how you did?"

Professor Vector and Neville were headed their way when they exited the classroom.

"Well? What's the verdict?"

"Full marks for both of them."

"Same here." Babbling laughed. "I guess it's settled then. I'll see both of you on Thursdays during your arithimancy slot."

"And I'll see you both on Tuesdays during your runes slot."

Vector gave them the first assignment that had been handed out earlier that day, so they'd have it for next Tuesday's class. 

"Thanks, professors."

"Not at all. It's gratifying having students that are so eager to learn." Vector assured them.

The warning bell for curfew rang, and the boys both groaned.

"Aw, man. Into the lockup we go." Harry huffed.

"Goodnight, professors."  
"Goodnight, boys." 

 

They got up to the portrait hole about thirty seconds after the bell for curfew rang. Naturally, Hermione was right inside the door, bristling like an angry cat. "Where were you? No one's seen you all night! You were late as well! You're going to lose us…" Hermione's face went red and furious as Harry put away his wand after silencing her.

"NOT. MY. MOTHER." Harry said very loud and clear. "I am not putting up with this anymore." 

Neville shrugged apologetically, but he didn't remove the silencing spell either. They moved past her and flopped down with some of their yearmates near the fire.

"So, where were you guys anyway? You missed the welcome party!"

"Oh, man. We did, didn't we? Couldn't be helped, I'm afraid. Ah, we'll meet the new firsties tomorrow. No big."

"What could be more important than the welcome party at the Melting Pot?" Seamus wondered.

"Don't tell me you two got detention?" Hermione hissed. She'd apparently found someone willing to take pity on her.

"Hardly. No, we were with Professors Babbling and Vector testing out of first year runes and arithimancy. We'll be taking class with the fourth years from here on out, in those two classes at least." 

Hermione dropped the whole pile of books she had gathered into her arms and stared at both of them in horror. Harry smiled widely and drank it in. It felt damned good.  
Hermione stood frozen for a long moment. "You…but…HOW?"

"We, um, started studying runes and arithimancy back during the summer after first year." Neville explained apologetically. "Barty Crouch and Professor Lupin helped us. They're both pretty good teachers." 

Still white faced, Hermione scrambled to gather up all her dropped books and ran for her dorm, muttering under her breath about studying.  
Harry watched her go and shook his head. 

"What do you want to bet she's not only going to try attending every class, doing all the homework--fifteen foot essays in every one--but working ahead so she can test out of first year runes and arithimancy as well?"

"No bets, mate. We all know she's barmy." Ron shook his head.

"So, Lavender, what's this we hear about there being seeker tryouts? What gives?" 

Everyone turned their attention to Lavender, who shrunk beneath everyone's regard.

"Give me a break. I stuck it out as long as I could, but with us starting extra classes and all… It was a lot of pressure. Towards the end of last year I started having nightmares about Oliver Wood trying to kill me for not doing well enough. I don't need that kind of stress in my life. It's all very well for him; he wants to make a career of quidditch. I don't, not after having been on the team here. I figure your sister can take over, that's if she can actually play, and isn't just bragging. I'm done." 

"Are any of you going to try out again?" Neville asked the other boys curiously.

"Not me, mate. Truthfully, I was kind of glad I didn't get on after seeing the team come crawling in at all hours looking exhausted." Seamus admitted.

"I'll try out again after Oliver Wood leaves. Keeper is what I really want." Ron said.

"I was never that keen, I mostly just thought it'd be a lark if I did get on, that's all." Dean added. "What about you, Harry? Gonna give it a try?"

"No, and for much the same reason as before. I want my free time to be mine. Choir practice is only once a week, so that's no real problem. If I was on the team, I'd be lucky if I had time to sleep and eat, let alone do homework. Nah, let Ginny put her money where her mouth is. She's been bragging non-stop since she got here. Let's see if she can actually deliver." 

"So, hey, man, tough luck on not getting to face the boggart today. You should have moved faster." Seamus changed the subject.

"Just my bad luck, I guess."

"Too right. I really wanted to see what yours was."

"Knowing Harry, it's probably men in black or something." Dean laughed.

"Um, mate? We're all wearing black." Ron pointed to their uniform robes.

"No, no. They're like, these guys that cover up the existence of aliens and stuff. My mum was reading a book about them."

"Aliens?"

"Yeah, like from other planets and stuff. They like, mutilate cattle and kidnap people so they can do anal probes and stuff."

Ron's face went white and he shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "What…really?"

"Yeah, man. They're coming for you, and they want your arse, they do." Seamus snorted, before whacking Ron in the head with a cushion from the couch. "Get real, would you!"   
Ron settled down to sulk while the others laughed. 

 

Harry didn't get a chance to confront Remus about the boggart class until that weekend. With the curriculum changes, each one of their classes were now going to be more challenging. The first years were lucky--they'd have the new curriculum from the outset, and wouldn't be stuck cramming in lots of extra stuff before OWLs. For the rest of them it meant they were being pushed to do more on their own time. So far this week they had not only the usual essays and bookwork, but a list of spells they were expected to have mastered by next class meeting. In potions they had a list of all the potions they'd be covering that month and were supposed to have researched all the individual ingredients and their interactions, as well as how the method of preparation changed them and why. Happily, each month they were going to be doing potions of a certain type, which had many of the same ingredients in each, so the chore wasn't going to be as onerous as it could have been, but it was still a lot to get done, and you could already see the nervousness and strain on many faces. 

Once again, the Melting Pot became a haven for beleaguered students--the upstairs portion of the Melting Pot proper became host to numerous group study sessions and spell practice sessions, in between tai chi and meditation classes. In fact, tai chi and meditation drew a number of converts because the students were stressed out.   
It was now late Saturday afternoon, and Harry was done his homework for the week. Hermione hadn't been bothering him much--she was too busy doing homework for twelve classes and trying to work ahead in two of them. She didn't even notice when he slipped out of the Melting Pot to go in search of Remus.   
He found him in his classroom, wearing his cloak.

"Are you about to leave?"

"Oh, Harry. Leave? Oh, no, no. I'm just returning, actually. I was in Hogsmeade for a bit. As much as I love Hogwarts, it is nice to get out occasionally. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that, of course. I remember how much everyone looked forward to the first Hogsmeade visit third year." His knowing smile faded as he took in Harry's scowling visage, which went blank when he realized he was looking at him. 

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be?" 

Remus frowned and took off his cloak, still looking confused. "Was there something in particular you wanted?"

"I think you know very well why I'm here. Boggart. Ring any bells?" 

Remus smiled at him knowingly. "Let me guess. You think I didn't let you face the boggart because I think you're weak?"

"Your words, not mine. Why would you even suggest it as a possibility unless that what you think?"

Remus sighed and shook his head. "I can assure you, Harry, I don't think you're weak. You must admit though, that there have been horrors in your past that most of the other children have never had to face…"

"And yet you had no problem letting Neville face it. I daresay parents crucioed into insanity counts as a horror." 

"There's also the fact that I had no idea what might appear. You must admit, having Lord Voldemort stepping out into a room full of school children…"

"Oh please! Why the bloody hell would I be afraid of him?"

"Many people are."

"Well, I'm hardly most people."

"Given your…difficulties…recently with several items, I'm sure you can understand why it would be a concern." 

Harry just rolled his eyes, and looked at him like he was an idiot.

"I also thought perhaps a goblin with an axe"

Harry just snorted again. "Please. I'm not afraid of that." 

Remus frowned and crossed his arms. "Well then, what are you afraid of?"

"Haven't the foggiest. I can't really think of anything off the top of my head. In fact, that in itself is part of the reason I'm so annoyed. I was hoping to find out." 

Remus sighed and scratched at his chin. "I have the house elves on the lookout for another boggart. If you like, I can let you know when they find one. I have to admit, I'm now curious as well." 

The bell rang, and Harry stood from where he was leaning against one of the student desks.

"Looks like dinner. I'll see you down in the great hall."

Remus nodded absently, and then realized he'd never gotten him to explain why he looked the way he did when he mentioned how much he must be looking forward to Hogsmeade weekend. He shook his head and put it out of his mind. It was probably nothing. 

 

The month of September wound onward. The days slowly grew colder and more blustery. 

Everyone in Hogwarts was busy. The fourth and fifth years were already being prepared to take their OWLs at the end of the school year. Hermione spent every waking moment when she wasn't in class surrounded by stacks of books and working feverishly. Everyone was so busy, in fact, that the first and second years found themselves taking up a lot of the slack within the different clubs because many of the older students were too weighed down by schoolwork to take as much part as they might have liked to. 

"I don't even know what all we're going to be doing with the puppet brigade this year. I've only been to one meeting since term started." Neville complained.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I got a couple of nice books on ancient Greek and Roman sculpture for my birthday. I was hoping to have a chance to try my hand at it, but I haven't had a chance really. I only had a couple of hours on Sunday that weren't taken up by either doing homework or practicing spells. All I really managed was to get part of a head and an arm out of the stone."

"Why don't you just transfigure the stone and be done with it?" Parvati wondered.

"We've all found that knowing how to actually draw helps a lot when you're drawing with magic. I'm betting it's the same with this. I want to do it and learn from it before I start taking shortcuts."

"Very admirable, Dean." Lavender nodded.

"Seems a lot of bother to me." Ron muttered.

"I don't think so. Think about the houses everyone made. More than half were useless because no one knew how to just build a house. Everyone just magicked it up and hoped it would stay like that. It's the same thing here." Neville disagreed.

Talk halted when Hermione staggered to the table and set down a pile of books with a thump, before collapsing into her seat and dropping her bag, which made a loud thump as well when it hit the floor. She just sat there for a moment, looking gritty-eyed and exhausted, before blinking tiredly and dishing up a bit to eat. She was starting to get dark circles under her eyes, and her bushy hair seemed wilder than ever, giving her a manic air to go with the exhaustion. She began eating with one hand while reading, and completely ignored everyone around her. 

"Oi! Hermione! Put the book away! That's not very social!" Ron complained, nudging her in the shoulder. 

She brandished her fork like a weapon when he wouldn't leave her alone. 

"Stop bothering me! I have to finish this! I'm falling behind!" she growled, before turning back to her book and continuing to read. 

The rest of them shrugged and continued chatting. Hermione finished about half of what was on her plate and then slammed her book closed, before gathering up everything.

"It's too noisy here! I'm going to the library!"

"Hermione, you've barely eaten. You should take a break…"  
"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR A BREAK!" Hermione snarled, causing Neville to rear back in fright.

"Maybe you should make time." Harry grumbled. "You've become rather difficult to live with."

Hermione bristled indignantly, and threw Harry a filthy look, before stomping off to the library.

Everyone let out a shaky breath once she was gone.

"You do like to live dangerously." Seamus joked.

"I get she's stressed out, but geez. I don’t appreciate her taking it out on the rest of us…I have to admit it's been nice not having her bitching at me all the time though" Harry scoffed.

Neville checked the time and started eating a bit faster. "Choir practice after dinner." he reminded Harry.

"Ah, man. It's always something, isn't it? I was looking forward to just laying around doing nothing for a while."

"Tell me about it. I'm not liking this new 4-3 system."

"It would have been fine if we'd been first years when they started it. It's only because they've restructured everything sort of last minute that it's such a problem. Think about this though, at least we're not the fourth years. They're going through the same thing and have to take their OWLs at the end of the year." 

"There is that." 

"Either way, I'm not doing anything tomorrow except sleep in and then hang out in the sauna for a bit."

"Now that sounds like a plan."

 

October rolled in with a vengeance. The Gryffindor quidditch team started having near daily practices to get ready for their match at the end of the month with Slytherin. Ginny had indeed gotten the seeker spot, blowing away the competition, what little there was. She seemed to have an easier time of it with Oliver, as well. For one thing, Fred and George wouldn't stand for her being bullied or pressured in any way. For another, she had no qualms about getting in Oliver's face or bat bogeying him when he annoyed her too much. On top of that, she was supremely confident that she would win, and was strutting about the place worse than ever. Her gaze still strayed to Harry now and again, to see if he was watching, or was at all impressed, but as usual, he wasn't really paying any attention to her. 

Her gaze traveled to the girl sitting next to him--bloody Cho Chang. It was even worse because now they were sharing two of their classes, and so had taken to studying together regularly. Even worse than that, he was a third year now, which meant they were both able to go to Hogsmeade, while she was stuck here in the castle all year. They'd probably be going on dates soon. She'd heard a rumor Harry wasn't allowed to go, but no one really believed that--what parent would be that cruel? 

It was so unfair! How was she supposed to get him, when she only saw him at the Melting Pot, and stupid Cho was always there? There had to be some way to get her out of the picture. The rumors about her and Cedric hadn't done the trick, though it had seemed for a while like it had. Marietta Edgecomb had cooled her animosity after a while and was no longer trying to drive him off. 

She briefly considered getting the twins to target her, but dismissed the idea immediately. She wasn't a bully or anything, which meant it would likely just turn everyone against the twins…and Harry against her. 

Her gaze fell on Hermione, and she smiled to herself. Maybe she'd have some ideas. She certainly wouldn't object to going after Cho; Hermione absolutely hated the Ravenclaw girls. Anytime she went into know-it-all mode, they had a tendency to roll their eyes at her and get condescending while they reminded her that she hadn't made the cut to be in Ravenclaw with the smart kids. Given how foul Hermione's temper had been lately, she might actually welcome a bit of vengeance to burn off some steam. She made a mental note to seek out the older girl--not now, though. She had stupid quidditch practice again. Feh. Like she needed it. Oliver knew how awesome she was; why the hell didn't Harry?

She cast one last glance at the couple with their heads bent together over their arithimancy homework, and vowed that Harry would be hers by year's end. 

 

She turned to leave and nearly bowled over Professor Lupin in the hallway.

"Professor! Sorry."

"It's alright, Miss Weasley, no harm done."

"What brings you down here? We never see professors around here…well, except for that one time." 

"I'm looking for Harry, actually. Do you know if he's inside?"

Ginny scowled and crossed her arms. "Yeah. He's studying with Cho Chang." 

Remus blinked at the amount of venom she was able to put into the other girl's name, and bit his lip to quell a completely inappropriate smile. It was rather amusing really--watching Harry and Ginny was like watching James and Lily twenty years ago--if Lily had been the one chasing James through their years at Hogwarts rather than the reverse, that is. Cho Chang was Severus Snape, it seemed. Poor girl. 

"Ah, thank you…and Ginny? I wouldn't fret overmuch. It' s early days yet…and I know for a fact that Potter men have a particular weakness for redheads." he added with a wink.

Ginny smirked and strutted off, feeling much more cheerful. Remus chuckled to himself and peeked his head inside. 

His gaze met an empty room full of doors. It was the first time he'd been down that way, but whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this. There were notice boards hanging up, long tables with pamphlets, and doors. Lots of doors. He began reading them: Puppeteer Brigade HQ, Cunning Artificers Workshoppe, Printing Club, Artists Studio, one marked "Boys" one marked "Girls", and the last with a melting pot on it. That must be the place. He peeked his head through that door, and found Harry seated around a coffee table with several other children: Neville, Hannah Abbot, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood, and of course, the infamous Cho Chang. There were other students scattered around at other low tables, or in the chairs scattered about the room--all except for one wooden chair that almost looked like a throne, beneath a dragon head and flanked by pillars of candles. How odd. 

Luna noticed him first.

"Hello, professor Lupin. Can we help you with something?"

"Actually I was just looking for Harry."

Harry glanced up, and began climbing to his feet, after saying something quietly to the girl beside him. Remus shook his head internally. He and that girl just looked so wrong together. Frankly, he didn't know what he saw in her.   
Oh, she was pretty enough, a good student, and seemed rather sweet--she was rather ordinary for all that, and a bit on the timid side. Ah, well. Harry would see that for himself before long. A spirited girl like Ginny was just what he needed--they could work that out for themselves though. 

Harry waited till they were back in the corridor to speak. "You found another boggart?"

"Yes. The elves brought it to me this morning. I would have said something sooner, but I've been in classes all day, and yours wasn't one of them."

"No worries. So, where is it?"

"In the classroom." 

Harry nodded and followed him up.

 

When they arrived, Remus moved to stand beside a trunk that was in the middle of the floor. "Ready? Do you remember the spell?"

Harry nodded and dropped his wand into his hand. Remus threw open the trunk and then hurriedly backed up. His fear used to be the moon, which brought on his monthly transformations. It was now a snarling werewolf with mad eyes, fangs dripping with saliva. There was only a little bit of the elixir left. It was now his deepest fear that he would once again be forced to live that life, with no hope of a second reprieve. It had been hard enough the first time around. Now, after having gotten to experience a life free from the curse, it would be unbearable. He still kept track of the full moon, though this time with the intention of not tempting fate. 

He watched as a shadowy form lifted out of the trunk and began flickering between images, almost too fast to see--though he could have sworn he saw Dumbledore among the mix, which was simply ludicrous…along with a shadowy Arthur Weasly, and a fellow he vaguely recognized as Kingsley Shaklebolt, and for just a second he thought he saw a very obese blonde Sirius of all things.

The morphing form resolved into Neville Longbottom, who stepped forward, wand drawn and sneered 'obliviate', before smirking rather condescendingly as he pulled a pack of playing cards from his pocket and held them out.

Remus frowned, confused, and glanced at Harry. Harry's face could have been carved from stone. He jabbed his wand forward as though preparing to stab the fake Neville and growled 'Riddikulus' like a curse. 

The pack of playing cards bent double in Neville's hand and began shooting upwards, while he turned into a clown, slipped on a banana peel and ended up sprawled on the floor with the cards raining down around him. To top it off, a banana crème pie appeared from nowhere and landed on the downed clown's face.  
Remus took a deep breath, brought forward his old fear of the moon, and hurried to stuff the boggart back in the trunk. He slammed the lid closed and locked it. 

"Well that was interesting…..Harry?"

Harry was gone. 

Remus sighed and checked the time. He was supposed to be meeting the others for dinner tonight. Maybe one of them could explain why Harry was afraid of Neville obliviating him, and more importantly, what a pack of playing cards had to do with it. He really needed to get moving; Charity got rather pissy when she was kept waiting.

 

"Remus! Glad you could make it." 

"Sirius, long time no see. Oh, this is Charity Burbage. She's the muggle studies professor."

"Nice to meet you. You were a Hufflepuff, right?"

"Yes, I was two years behind all of you in school."

"Yeah, I thought it was something like that. Sirius Black, my wife, Adeline."

When the greetings and pleasantries were over, they headed towards the parlor, where Barty and Dora were already waiting.   
They talked, played cards, had a leisurely dinner. It was quite the treat for Remus and Charity both, given that they were usually surrounded by children day and night. After dinner, the ladies withdrew for a nice bit of girl talk, while the guys followed Sirius into the study for drinks. 

Once they were settled, Sirius asked "So how's Harry been?"

"He's been fine. Busy, but then I'm sure you know that."

"We've not heard so much as a peep out of him since he left for Hogwarts."

"Surely he's sent letters…"  
"Not to us."  
"His phone…"  
"Turned off."  
"The mirrors…"  
"Buried in his trunk somewhere."

"That doesn't make any sense! He was always writing, and used to call at least once a week on the mirror. Did something happen?"

Sirius sighed and rubbed his eyes, before giving them both a brief rundown of the last few weeks of summer, the horcrux, their talk, and their confusing goodbye on the platform.  
Remus frowned. 

"It's funny, but I got a similarly strange reaction from him one day. I mentioned offhand how much he must be looking forward to Hogsmeade. If looks could kill… Everything you've just told me does clear up at least part of something strange that happened earlier, though I still don't know where the playing cards fit in…"

"What's this?"

Remus told them about his boggart lesson with Harry earlier, after explaining why he had a separate one from the rest of the students. Sirius sighed rather morosely and downed the rest of his brandy when he'd finished.

"I don't know what's up with the playing cards either."

"I guess I'll have to try to corner him and ask him. I'll tell him to write home as well."

They chatted for a bit more, and then the ladies rejoined them. By that point it was getting rather late, and Remus and Charity had to get back to Hogwarts before the gates were locked down for the night.

 

After they'd gone, the remaining four relocated to the parlor.

"Did you ever sign his Hogsmeade permission slip?" Barty suddenly asked.

"Huh?" 

"Well, I was just thinking… You told him you weren't going to sign it, right? Then he got mouthy and you grounded him later. He got mad when you told him to have fun, and he got mad when you told him he must be looking forward to Hogsmeade. I just wondered, is all."

"Course I signed it. I'm not a monster." Sirius griped, offended. "Even when things were at their worst between me and my parents, they never held out on Hogsmeade. The very idea!"

"So you signed it then?"

"Yes, I just said so!"

"Even if Sirius had been of a mind to not sign it, I would have." Adeline pointed out. "But naturally neither one of us would do such a thing."

"Does he know that?"

"Of course he does. Oddment reminded us it needed to be signed, and we had him put it in Harry's trunk." 

"Things shift around during travel. I'm just saying." 

"Well, even if it did, I'm sure he's gone through it since then." Sirius asserted. Beside him, Adeline nodded.

Sirius and Adeline exchanged a glance, and they both sighed.

"It might explain why we haven't heard from him. He spent half the summer thinking we were awful people who expected him to stay in his room and slowly starve to death. Thinking we're awful people who wouldn't sign his permission slip just because we can wouldn't be too big of a stretch." Adeline pointed out.

"But we talked about it! We explained!"

"Doesn't necessarily mean he believed you." Dora sighed. "If he's screwed in the head enough to think something like that in the first place, just telling him he was wrong might not be enough to fix things." 

"Damnit! I could kill Arthur for unleashing this mess! Do you know Harry's greatest fear is someone close to him obliviating him?" he added to Adeline. "I just wish I knew what was up with the pack of cards."

"What's this?"

Barty filled the two ladies in on what Remus had told them earlier. Adeline looked stumped. 

"I dunno. Maybe he thinks he's a Manchurian candidate." Dora joked.

"A what now? Why would he think he was Chinese?"

Adeline, on the other hand sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Why would you think that?" she wondered.

"Well, because I know he's seen the movie, and a pack of cards figures pretty prominently."

"What, did you watch it with him or something?"

"Huh? No. He got it from the library. I heard all about him long before I met him when I started working there. The librarian, Mrs. Greene, told me bits about all the regulars when I started. I was helping her add some new arrivals to the catalogue one day and she mentioned Harry…she thought his name was Dudley. He was using his cousin's library card. Anyway, she got some books on military history and she mentioned that 'Dudley' would probably check them out first thing, next time he showed up. After I finally met 'Dudley' and realized who he was, I went and checked his library record. He checked out every book in the library on ninjas. Once he was done with that, he moved on to spies, assassins, black ops, special forces, military history, when he went through everything we had on that, he branched out some: anatomy, wilderness survival, easy home repairs, and building, basic first aid, basic chemistry and biology, puzzles and ciphers, code breaking. It was the same with the movies. He watched every film they had that dealt with ninjas or martial arts and then he went through everything with spies, assassins or soldiers. Only when all that stuff ran out did he start watching the regular films, you know, comedies and whatnot. Mrs. Greene mentioned she often told her husband she was concerned about his reading material and the films he watched as she didn't think it was healthy for a boy his age, but he always told her boys liked stuff like that. When they got a copy of the Manchurian candidate to replace the copy that got messed up, she mentioned it to him and he went and watched it. She was cursing herself after, because she said he looked disturbed when he left. It's really the only case of scary playing cards I can think of offhand, that's all." 

"Why was he disturbed? And why were the playing cards scary?"

Dora sighed. "You know what? It would probably be easier to just go rent it and watch it than try to explain everything. My parent's place isn't far." 

"Let's go then. If you're right, it might help explain some of Harry's malfunctions. Maybe if we understand, we can work on unraveling some of them." 

 

Harry glowered at the owl that landed in front of him and looked hopefully at his bacon.

"Rascal? What are you doing here?"

The owl just hooted and tried to look like it was pathetic and starving, before looking at the bacon once more. Harry snickered in spite of himself as he untied the letter from the owl's leg. "Help yourself" he sighed.  
The others at the table eyed him strangely when he pulled his wand and began scanning the letter.

"What are you doing?"

"That's my godfather's owl. Better to be safe than sorry."

Hermione, who had been more short-tempered than usual the last few days, rolled her eyes and huffed, before grabbing the letter and breaking the seal. 

"You're completely ridic…."

"First of all, serves you right. Second of all, get your bloody hands off my mail. I don't know if it works differently in the wizarding world, but in most places, interfering with someone's mail is a serious offense." He called after her as she ran from the room crying amidst the pointing, stares and laughter of the other students in the great hall.

"I can't believe your godfather tried to give you donkey ears."

Harry snorted rather bitterly. "Doesn't surprise me at all."

He nudged the open letter closer to himself with his wand and scanned it for any further surprises. 

"I'll have to thank Hermione later for biting the bullet for me."

He scanned through the contents quickly and frowned in confusion.

"Bad news?"

"Pack of lies, more like." Harry muttered.

Neville held out his hand for the letter, which Harry handed over before going back to his breakfast.

"But this is good news!"

"Nev, I've been all through my trunk. I didn't see any permission slip." 

"Maybe you just missed it. Come on." 

Harry glowered at Neville, but he wouldn't be deterred, and kept tugging him till he got out of his seat and followed him back to the common room.  
Neville kept prodding till he unlocked his trunk.   
It didn't take long, between the two of them, to unpack everything. When everything was piled on his bed, and all that was left was the empty trunk, Harry crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow as though to say 'See? I told you so.'

"Maybe it's stuck between two things." Neville asserted.

Harry rolled his eyes, but helped shake out all his clothes and refold them, before putting them back. Neville shook out all his books one by one, and upended his shoes.   
When everything was put back, Harry sighed and collapsed across his bed.

"See? It's just like I told you. They're lying." 

"Why would they do that? No, there has to be some other explanation." 

"You have your theory, I have mine." 

Neville frowned, and got down on the floor to peer beneath the bed. He found a dirty sock, one of Ron's shoes, a chocolate frog card and a broken quill, but no permission slip.  
He climbed back to his feet.

"Check your bedside table. Maybe it got stuck to something and it's in the drawer there." 

Harry sighed, feeling much put-upon, and went to the bedside table to sort through the junk in there. There was a lot of it. Neville shook his head. "Dump it out. We'll sort through it."   
They were still doing that when the others came back from lunch. 

"What are you looking for?"

"Harry's Hogsmeade permission slip. His godfather said he had the house elf stick it in his trunk, but Harry never saw it. We've gone through everything and we still can't find it. I looked under the bed, and now we're going through all this stuff, and there's still no sign of it." 

"You think it fell out and got picked up by someone else by mistake?"

"Could be. Look around, would you?"

Harry rolled his eyes again. So far as he was concerned, there was no slip and never had been.

The other boys shrugged and went to dig through their trunks. They all found lots of broken quills, knuts, crinkled parchment, odd socks, frog cards, and the like, but no permission slip. Seeing nothing else to do, Dean and then Seamus emptied out their bedside drawers as well and started sorting through the refuse there as well.  
Ron had gotten bored digging through his trunk, and was instead reading 'quidditch through the ages'.

"Damn, I didn't realize how much candy I've eaten since I got here." Seamus laughed as he sorted through the pile of empty chocolate frog wrappers that were in his drawer. 

"We need a trash can up here, seriously." Dean agreed. 

"Itsy."

The boys all looked when a small house elf appeared.

"You is calling?"

"Could we get a trash can up here, do you think?"

"Itsy will see if she cans be finding one." 

When Itsy appeared a few minutes later with a trash can, which Dean took with a smile and a thank you, Neville asked her a question.

"Hey, um, Itsy was it? Do you know who cleans this dorm by any chance?"

"I is thinking it is Panko, but I is not sure."

"Could you find out? It's just that, Harry's Hogsmeade permission slip was supposed to be in his trunk, but we can't find it anywhere. We wondered if maybe it fell on the floor and got picked up."

"Itsy will be asking." she assured them before disappearing once more. 

The trash can was already half-full once Dean and Seamus dumped their refuse into it. Harry grabbed it when they were done and swept his pile off his bed into it. Neville went through his trunk and drawer as well, but there was still no sign of any permission slip. 

"Wow. I don't think the room has been this clean since we got here." Seamus laughed. "Oi! Ron! What're you doing, mate? If the thing is in the room, you've gotta have it. Get a move on, would you?"

Ron grumbled, but set aside the book and then dumped out his trunk in the middle of the floor.  
He was in the middle of sorting it when Itsy returned with another house elf.

"This is being Panko. Panko is seeing permission slip and is putting it in drawer. It was being stuck with gum on the bottom of a shoe!" 

"We've all looked through everything. None of us saw it."

"Is being in that drawer!" Panko pointed. Neville hurried over to Ron's bedside table and pulled the drawer, which he upended on Ron's bed.

"OI!" Ron grumbled. 

Neville grimaced as he began gingerly sorting through the pile of candy wrappers, half-eaten candy, gum stuck in wrappers, and other trash. At the bottom of the pile was a wrinkled piece of paper with a half a muddy shoe print on it, covered in gum. Neville made a face and pried the thing open. 

"Hey, Harry? You might want to ask for a new permission slip. I don't think McGonagall is going to accept this one." 

Harry's face went blank with shock. "You mean that's my permission slip? It was really in my trunk?"

"Apparently. Ron must have stepped on it and carried it off. Thanks, Panko, Itsy. You've both been a great help." 

Harry grimaced as he took the thing from Neville. "Yuck. Damn, Ron, you've had this foul thing in your table all this time and didn't notice?"

"You should probably see McGonagall about getting a new permission slip. We go to Hogsmeade tomorrow." Neville prodded.

Holding the thing in two fingers away from himself, and mind still blank with confusion and shock, Harry just nodded and wandered from the room. "Yeah, I'll get right on that." 

 

As expected, McGonagall was neither pleased nor amused by the state of his permission slip. Happily, she was able to get the mud and gum off and leave it looking, if not exactly presentable, at least not like something fit only for the garbage bin.

Harry was still confused when he left her office. Sirius had said he wasn't going to sign it, but he had anyway. It didn't make sense--that wasn't how things worked.   
However, regardless of why or how, it suddenly hit him that he got to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow with everyone else. In fact…

He hurriedly dug out his phone, and turned it on for the first time in weeks, and dialed Cho. 

"Cho…Harry here. Guess what? Apparently I can go to Hogsmeade tomorrow…."

"No, it was my trunk, it seems. I didn't know it was in there. It must have fallen out when I was unpacking, but then one of my roommates stepped on it. He had gum on his shoe and carried it off. We just spent about an hour turning the whole dorm out trying to find it. Yeah, crazy, huh? So…are you still free tomorrow? Yeah? Brilliant. I'll meet you at the doors after breakfast?" A wide smile suddenly spilt Harry's face. "It's a date." he agreed.

Heart pounding, and still with a wide, stupid grin splitting his face, Harry hung up and put the phone away. He was going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, and he had a date with Cho. Life was looking good.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries his hand at dating, plots vengeance with the Slytherins and goes to a party

"Oh my god! Harry! Look! You're in Teen Witch Weekly!" Lavender suddenly squealed.

"Come again?"

"Look! See!"

Harry took the magazine that was suddenly thrust under his nose and then boggled at the picture of him and Cho laughing over tea and scones at Madame Puddifoot's--a twee little teashop in Hogsmeade that Cho seemed to be partial to. It seemed to be the place for couples on dates so they could avoid the noise and crowds at the Three Broomsticks, which was a large pub/restaurant/inn in the middle of the village. 

"You have got to be kidding me." 

"Is Love in the Air for the Boy-who-lived?" Dean read out loud, rather obnoxiously in Harry's opinion. 

"Yeah, yeah. Yuk it up, you cretins. I don't believe this. Surely me going to a bloody teashop with a girl isn't interesting enough to merit an article? What kind of rag are you reading here, anyway?" Harry grumbled, while he handed the thing back to Lavender.

"Teen Witch Weekly is not a rag." Lavender huffed, sounding insulted. 

He looked over to the Ravenclaw table, and saw Cho looked rather embarrassed, and seemed to be getting ribbed about the article by her housemates.   
In fact, everywhere he looked, groups of girls seemed to be reading Teen Witch Weekly and peering at either him, Cho or both, in interest--as though they didn't see the both of them every day in the great hall and elsewhere. People were mad, that's all there was to it.

When he turned his gaze back to his own table, he saw Ginny Weasley had a copy as well. Her face was as red as her hair, and she was scowling at the article, while holding the magazine in a white-knuckled grip. The girl was deeply disturbed; there was no two ways about it.

Harry was still grumbling a bit when the bell rang for classes, but that was all. It was a short article and didn't really say much beyond who they both were, reiterated a bit of Harry's tragic past, and mentioned they were on a date in Hogsmeade. Embarrassing, but harmless. 

Resolving to put the whole thing out of his mind, he headed off to his classes for the day. 

 

The next day at breakfast, there was a small commotion over at the Ravenclaw table. Cho received an unusual amount of mail, and the owls, four of them in all, landed in food and across people's plates, much to the consternation of her housemates. 

"I wonder what that's all about?"

"I dunno. I'll ask her in class. We have arithimancy today." 

Cho and her friends were still at the table as Harry and the others got up to leave for class. More curious than ever, he resolved to ask her first thing when he saw her again.  
He was quite impatient by the time arithimancy rolled around, and lurked outside waiting for Cho to arrive.   
Cho looked rather wan and despondent, but her two friends both looked furious, and gave him such a look of loathing he was rather taken aback.

"Cho? Are you alright? What's going on?"

Cho mustered up a smile that looked more like a grimace. "It's nothing, Harry, don't worry about it."

"NOTHING?" Marietta snarled, before poking Harry hard in the chest. "Because of you she got a whole pile of hate mail today! Why don't you do everyone a favor and get lost."

"Marietta!" Cho protested.

"What? She's right! He's been nothing but trouble for you!" Cho's other friend Elspeth agreed.

"Hate mail? From who?" Harry demanded indignantly.

"Just some random people. Look, it's not important. Let's just drop this okay?"

"Do you still have them?"

Cho sighed unhappily. 

"Cho."

Her shoulders slumped and she dug out a wad of crumpled parchment from where they'd been hurriedly stuffed in her bag. Professor Vector arrived then and shooed them all inside. Harry normally sat with Cho, but this time her friends glared at him and pulled her away protectively to the other side of the room. Their flat gazes warned that any attempt to approach would be met with violence.   
Neville, who had witnessed the whole thing scoffed at Cho's friends, before pulling Harry to sit with him. 

He didn't have a chance to look over any of it while in class, and so had to wait till lunchtime. Cho's friends pulled her away after class, leaving her only the chance to cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder as they hustled her off.

"Bloody Ravenclaws." Neville muttered under his breath.  
"Tell me about it." 

 

"What's all that?"

"Hate mail some psycho bints sent Cho this morning." Harry answered absently. 

"Someone sent her hate mail?" Lavender and Parvati gasped.

"Yeah, she's all upset, and her friends are being bitches about it. They're all acting like it's my fault."

"What are you doing?"

"Writing back a nasty letter to each of them and telling them exactly what I think of their behavior. I mean really, I don't know any of these people from Adam. What the hell gives them the right?" 

Hedwig flew into the great hall just as he was finishing off the last of them.

"Hedwig, my dear. Aren't you the clever girl? You always do know when I need you. Take these would you? If any of the nasty bints tries anything, you have both my permission and my encouragement to get them good. Alright?"

He finished tying on the last of the letters and wished her a safe flight, before turning at last to his lunch. 

"I can't believe anyone sent her hate mail for going to a teashop with you!" Parvati huffed indignantly. "How awful."

"It's one of the hazards of dating a celebrity. If she's going to get this upset by a few stupid letters, I think it's pretty obvious she's not the girl for you, Harry." 

"Hermione? Mind your own business. I don't recall asking you opinion about any of it. And as far as I'm concerned, Cho has a perfect right to be upset by this. Those people were completely out of line."

 

He didn't get another chance to see Cho or talk to her until after classes were over. Cho met him in the Melting Pot, after seemingly arguing with her friends so she could approach alone. 

"Harry."

"Cho."

Her friends were still giving him dirty looks. They both sighed.

"Head upstairs, away from the peanut gallery?"

Cho nodded, looking apologetic again.  
Once they were alone, Cho faced him, wringing her hands. 

"I saw Hedwig at lunch. What did you do?"

"I wrote those people a nasty letter and told them what I thought of them. I'm really sorry all this happened. I really had no idea…"

"You couldn't have. I certainly never expected anything like it either. They said some really…"

"Don't you dare take anything those bints said to heart. If anyone is undeserving, it's me. You're smart, you're beautiful and you're a nice person on top of that." 

Cho blushed, but she was smiling again and her eyes sparkled--a huge change from the wan creature she'd been all day.

"You really think that?"

"Hell yeah. I'm a lucky guy." 

Cho smiled bashfully and moved a little closer.

"I really had fun the other day." 

"Yeah? Me too." Harry agreed as he moved closer as well. His heart started pounding as she lifted her face to his and slowly moved closer. 

Her lips were soft and tasted sort of like strawberries. Their kiss didn't last long, but Harry was out of breath when it was done. Cho bit her lip and blushed again. She really was just too cute for words sometime. There was really nothing for it but for Harry to kiss her again. 

 

Ginny hurriedly dried her hair and changed into clean clothes. The weather had gotten progressively worse all week, and Oliver still had them out for practice every chance he could get. He was absolutely determined to win the quidditch cup this year, come hell or high water. Feeling marginally more human, she headed downstairs to the common room to see what all she'd missed while stuck in practice all night. 

She saw Hermione sitting alone in an alcove surrounded by books as she always was these days. She looked around quickly to see if anyone was paying special attention to where she was, and then slid into the open chair opposite her.

"Hey. Anything interesting happen tonight?"

"Harry and Cho seem to have made up." Hermione replied absently. "She got a bunch of hate mail, he wrote nasty letters back. That was apparently enough to get him back in her good graces. They disappeared upstairs alone for a bit and when they came back they were all cozy and holding hands." 

Ginny scowled. "Bloody bint. I don't even know what he sees in her! I'm not too worried though. Professor Lupin told me not to worry, because Potter men have a weakness for redheads. He's right, it's early days yet. He will see I'm the only one for him. I just need to get Chang out of the way." 

Hermione glanced out to see if anyone was looking their way, and then cast a mild privacy charm to keep anyone from paying too much attention to them.

"If you're really serious about this, the hate mail angle might be the way to go. You know what a fluttery little thing she is. She was apparently all woebegone and despondent over a few nasty letters. I even told Harry it was one of the hazards of dating a celebrity, and that If she couldn't handle it she was probably not the girl for him, but he just got all shirty with me." She huffed and rolled her eyes, before eyeing Ginny. "Are you sure you can handle the hazards of dating a celebrity?"

"Puhlease. If some stupid cow sent me a nasty letter, I'd hex it right up and send it back, and then laugh when the bint ended up in St. Mungo's. I certainly wouldn't need to go crying to Harry to make it better. I'm no damsel in distress. Harry won't need to take care of me, I'll take care of him!" 

"Hexed letters would probably do the trick if plain old mean ones had her all teary."

"How would we get them to her though? School owls would be pretty obvious."

"Well…there's another Hogsmeade weekend coming up in a few weeks. If they're still together, Harry and Cho will probably go on another date. They printed an article about their last one. Chances are they'll try for another, possibly with an interview if they can manage it. If there's another article, there'll be more hate mail. With it being a second one, if there's more than before, I doubt anyone would think anything of it. Make up some fake names, write a few nasty letters and hex them up before next Hogsmeade weekend. I'll take them to the post-office while I'm down there. It doesn't cost much to send post locally. Oh, and be sure to cast the signature blocking spell on each of them before you do. If Harry decides to use the letters to write back on, they might still come to you even if you used a fake name."

"I don't know that one."

"There's a library book on my bedside table. It's in there."

"Weird they'd give you a spell to wipe your magic signature in a library book."

"It's not to hide who sent a letter, it's to remove magic traces from a cauldron before making some of the more volatile potions. Make sure you cast it before you hex the letters though, or it might either set them all off, or end them. I'm not sure which."

Ginny grinned mischievously. "Perfect. Goodbye, Cho Chang." she cackled, before rising from her seat. "I'm going to go get that book."

"I'll need it back tomorrow. It's due."

"No problem." 

 

"WE WON!"  
"YES! THE CUP IS OURS THIS YEAR!"  
"You know what this means right? We need to practice harder than ever if we want to keep up our winning streak. I need to go schedule more practices!"  
"Oliver, man, would you just relax and enjoy the bloody victory already!" Angelina snarled, before thrusting a cup of firewhiskey--brought by the twins, who seemed to have contraband connections--into his hand.   
"Yeah, Oliver. Relax and enjoy the party, geez." Katie agreed while pulling him down to sit beside her. "We won. Bask in the glory."  
"And here's the woman of the hour!" Lee Jordan announced. "Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor seeker. She snatched the snitch right out from under Slytherin's nose after a spectacular thirty foot dive! Three cheers for Ginny!"  
"HIP HIP HOORAY! HIP HIP HOORAY! HIP HIP HOORAY!"   
"Woo hoo! Gryffindor!"

 

Ginny tossed her hair, strutted around the room, basking in her accolades. A lot of boys were eyeing her appreciatively, she noticed. She slanted a glance Harry's way, to see if he was jealous, but found that he wasn't even looking her way. He and his yearmates were guzzling butterbeer, laughing and having themselves a good old time in front of the fire.   
It rather soured her giddy good mood, though she tried not to let it show. 

Someone brought out a wireless and set it to loudly playing music. Some of the upper years, who'd evidently been dipping rather freely into the firewhiskey, began dancing in the open space on the floor, while the twins told jokes and threw firecrackers. She cast a last angry glance Harry's way, and wandered towards fourth year Elmer Brown, who been making eyes at her earlier and smiled at him. Elmer grinned, scooched over to make room on the loveseat beside him and offered her a butterbeer. 

He was kind of boring, but Ginny smiled and batted her eyes, determined to enjoy her victory and the party, Harry Potter or no Harry Potter. Even with her resolve, she found herself daydreaming about Harry passionately declaring his love for her, while Cho Chang cried in the background, hexed to hell from her letters.   
_"Oh, Ginny my love, I don't know what I was thinking. Cho Chang is a stupid cow really, and she cries way too much. She probably dosed me with a love potion or something. It was always you. We Potters totally dig redheads, you know. You know what? We should get married. It's obvious you're the best I'll ever have."_  
Ginny giggled to herself as she imagined their wedding, and the fabulous, not to mention expensive, dress she'd wear. Reporters would flock from all over, and they'd be in all the papers under headlines like "TRUE LOVE CONQUERS ALL". Then they'd go on a world tour, and move into a mansion with house elves, and the Holyhead Harpies would beg her to come play for them. Harry would be an auror or something. He'd pine away whenever she was away for games--and other girls would try to steal him, but he'd completely ignore them, because he only had eyes for her, and they'd all cry themselves to sleep wishing they were her. 

The haze cleared from her eyes and she tuned in to find that Elmer was still droning on and on about something or other--she hadn't really been paying attention. She glanced back over to the fire and saw Harry putting away his phone while making for the exit. 

Thinking quickly Ginny interrupted Elmer's boring drone. 

"That's fascinating. Wanna make out?"

Elmer spluttered and his face went red. 

"Great. We need to get out of here though before my brothers see." 

The blood drained out of Elmer's face as he remembered she had four older brothers right there in Gryffindor--and two of them were the twins.  
She didn't give him a chance to second guess himself or back out. Her brothers were all occupied elsewhere, and Harry was halfway to the door.   
She grabbed Elmer's hand and gave it a tug. "Come on!" she growled, and pulled him along in her wake. 

Harry was stopped every few feet to talk to someone, so they were able to catch up to him as he reached the door. 

Harry glanced back when he realized someone was following him. Ginny found herself rather offended by the annoyed look he got in his eyes when he realized it was her. That's when he noticed Elmer, and the fact they were holding hands. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Precocious, aren't you?" he muttered before looking at Elmer with pity. 

"You're either an idiot, or you've got balls of steel, mate. If her brothers catch you with her, you're a dead man walking. You know that, right? Oh well, not my problem. I've got a saucy little Ravenclaw waiting on me. G'night!" 

Just like that, Harry walked off whistling, and patting down his hair. 

"Hey, uh, Ginny? I'm, uh, gonna head back inside. See ya." Elmer mumbled before diving back into the common room. 

Furious, embarrassed and frustrated, Ginny screamed, stamped her foot, and threw the half-drunk bottle of butterbeer at the wall with all her might. It exploded with a very satisfying crunch, and splattered the wall, sending bits of butterbeer and shards of glass everywhere. 

"MISS WEASLEY! DETENTION!" McGonagall said coldly from down the hall. "This is not how a young lady of Gryffindor conducts herself, and it is certainly not how one treats the castle, am I clear?" 

Ginny huffed miserably and crossed her arms. This was the worst night ever. It had started out so well, too.

It was suddenly just all too much. She'd know since she was a little girl that she and Harry were soulmates and were meant to be together. Reality didn't seem to be matching up to her dreams--but she was right about this, she knew she was! He was her knight and she was his princess, and he was supposed to carry her away to live in a big house and have a wonderful life being rich and famous. 

She burst into tears.

McGonagall tutted uncomfortably and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, which she thrust into Ginny's hands, before chivvying her back to her office for some hot cocoa and a calming draught. 

 

Two weeks later was the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw game. None of the Gryffindors were really too excited about this game as they weren't playing, but Oliver insisted the team all attend so they could take notes on the competition. Oliver took his own advice and got a seat front and center. He'd even brought along a little notebook and an ever-inking quill.

The weather was brisk and chill, though happily, it wasn't raining like it had been during the Slytherin/Gryffindor game. 

Hermione had brought along a book to read, though it was laying unopened on her lap for the moment. She glanced to her side and found Ginny staring daggers at the back of Harry's head, where he was sitting several rows down. He was wearing a Ravenclaw scarf--probably Cho Chang's, who was the Ravenclaw seeker. 

"I don't have money for the post office. Could you transfigure some of the owls to look different?" Ginny asked quietly. 

"You still want to?"

"Definitely. She won't know what hit her. She'll be lucky if she makes it from the table in one piece." 

"Don't overdo it." Hermione hissed back quietly. "I refuse to end up in Azkaban just because you're impatient to start dating." 

Ginny said nothing in reply; she just continued glowering at the Ravenclaw scarf Harry was wearing. 

Ravenclaw was in rare form that day. They seemed to be flying circles around Hufflepuff. Even Cho seemed more on the ball than usual. Normally she just followed the other seeker around and let them look for the snitch. This time, the Hufflepuff seeker seemed to be following her, and kept getting distracted each time she flew by. 

"Hmph. Looks like those rumors about Diggory having a thing for her were true." 

"Didn't you start those rumors?"

"Yeah, what's your point?"

Ravenclaw was leading 180-40 when Cho suddenly darted across the field, flying low on her broom, Diggory right behind her. The snitch led them on a merry chase, down the length of the field and back, through the other players twice, and under the stands, before darting out towards the Hufflepuff goalpost, where it suddenly dropped. Cho managed to stay in the lead just enough to grab the snitch seconds ahead of Diggory, winning the game 280-40.

Cho did a victory lap, holding the snitch aloft, while the Ravenclaws cheered. She smiled brightly at Harry as she sped past the Gryffindor stands, and Ginny edged her wand out of her sleeve. Hermione kept a smile on her face, but she grabbed Ginny's wrist and squeezed warningly.

"If she falls from this height she could get seriously hurt. Azkaban, remember?"

Ginny pouted, but she stopped trying to pull her wand. 

As they stood to start making their way out of the stands, she spotted Harry down below with Cho, picking her up and spinning her in a circle, and her laughing and swatting his shoulder to make him put her down. 

Cho's housemates took her away to go celebrate not long after. Harry ambled back towards the entrance to the stands to meet the others as they made it down to the field.  
He was still wearing Cho's scarf.

"Next Hogsmeade weekend can't come fast enough." Ginny muttered.

 

December blew in, cold and snowy. They could see Stan the groundskeeper trudging across the grounds through the knee-high snow, clearing paths to the greenhouses, to his shack, and the road down to Hogsmeade. He seemed to have a better handle on it this year, judging by how quickly he was managing it this time around. Unfortunately for Stan, a new pile of snow showed up every couple of days and undid all his hard work, forcing him to start all over. 

Near the end of the first week of December, McGonagall showed up to take the names of anyone staying over the holiday. 

"My parents wrote and said they're gonna go visit Charlie in Romania this year. We're all stuck staying at the castle for Christmas." Ron grumbled. "I don't suppose any of you want to stay over?" he added hopefully.

"I would, mate, but I've got an appointment over the holiday I really need to keep. Sorry." 

"You could come stay with me if you really don't want to stay here. I'm sure my gran wouldn't mind. I could ask her." 

"I'd love to, but my parents would never go for it--at least mum wouldn't. She wants us all to stay together. That's why I asked if anyone else wanted to stay." 

"Oh. Sorry, Ron, but gran is expecting me home." 

"Sorry, man." 

"No worries. At least I won't be completely alone here. We're all in Gryffindor."

'That's it, look at the bright side."

"Speaking of Christmas, we should have a Christmas party or something before we leave. We could do a secret santa or something." Hermione suggested.

"Secret santa? What's that?"

"We have such a large group, everyone would go flat broke trying to buy presents for everyone. So, what you do is, everyone puts their name in a bowl or something, and everyone draws one name. You have to buy a present for just that person--there's usually a limit on how much you can spend as well, so that you don't have some people getting really fancy presents and others getting junk. It cuts down on the hard feelings. So we have our party, and at the end of the night, everyone gets their present. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, actually."

"Hey, we could do Christmassy activities to lead up to it. You know like, everyone make cards and stuff, or make decorations for the room." Parvati suggested.

"Yeah, that's the spirit. It would be a nice stress reliever as we head towards the end of term exams." 

"We should see if Sue and Hannah want help making some Christmas themed cakes too. I think they said they still have the little oven they made stowed away somewhere."

"Alright then. We suggest all this stuff at the next meeting at the Melting Pot so we have plenty of time to get everything ready and no one ends up getting stressed out trying to do all of it and study for exams at the same time. Maybe we should come up with some easy to make projects for presents for the first and second years. The rest of us can go to Hogsmeade before we leave, they can't."

"Maybe we should have everyone make stuff so it's fair. You figure everyone doesn't have extra pocket money laying around to buy extra presents with. That way it would be more personal too." 

"Alright then, we can do that." 

 

The idea for the Christmas party and secret santa was greeted with much enthusiasm. For the next few weeks time in the Melting Pot got split between students doing homework, studying for exams, and groups making decorations, cards, or presents. Time seemed to be speeding up as the end of the year approach. Before they knew it, it was time for the last Hogsmeade weekend before school let out for the holidays. 

Cho met Harry at the front door of Hogwarts. They were joined by Neville and Hannah, as well as Vince and Millicent. Hannah had suggested a group outing so Harry and Cho wouldn't be as likely to be targeted for another article, not to mention the resulting hate mail.

Harry concentrated on getting his Christmas shopping out of the way--he'd wait till he was in Diagon Alley over the break to get the items he'd need to make his gatemaker.   
Much to his delight, Dark Magic: A History was on the shelves, though it took him browsing the shelves for a while to find it, as it was stowed in a back corner of the shop, rather than in the window or in a display for new arrivals as was usually the case. He bought a copy for himself, for Barty, for Remus and Sirius. He also got one for Hermione. The girl often annoyed the hell out of him, but she was intellectually curious enough to want to read the book, and would make a good mouthpiece for correcting common misconceptions about dark magic. She not only remembered everything she read, she also had a pathological need to tell people about it at length. He got Adeline perfume in a pretty bottle. For Cho he got perfume and a cloak pin in the form of an eagle made from gold and copper interlace. Arcturus he'd gotten a bottle of mead, Melania some fancy tea cakes she was partial to, Nymphadora a set of mugs that changed colors with your moods when you were holding them. He'd gotten Neville a carrying case for seedlings that acted as a mini greenhouse so that the plants wouldn't be damaged when being transported in the winter. He'd found a signed team photo of the Chudley Cannons in an orange frame that was reasonably priced, which he'd gotten for Ron. He'd gotten a set of fruit flavored lip glosses for Lavender and Parvati, candy for Dean and Seamus, a nice eagle-feather quill for Draco, a bracelet for Pansy, a lady's dagger for Millicent. He'd gotten Luna as his secret santa, so he'd made her a nice set of rune stones and made a velvet pouch to hold them in that had a pocket to hold the casting mat, which he'd also made. They had turned out rather nice if he did say so himself. Andromeda and Narcissa had gotten fur lined gloves, Ted a bottle of firewhiskey, Lucius a bottle of brandy. All he had left was Vince and Greg. He spotted a fedora in a window and smiled. He thought he knew what he was going to get both of them. If they were so keen to be his associates, they might as well look the part, right?

It was getting late by the time they were all done with their separate shopping expeditions. The group headed for the Three Broomsticks for lunch and found a booth in the back that had luckily just opened up as they were arriving. 

They had no sooner settled into their seats when they were accosted by a blonde with a shark-like gaze who was being trailed by a photographer.

"Well, Harry Potter. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Excuse me, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss…?"

"Rita Skeeter, Witch Weekly." she crooned as she got her quill poised to start writing. The photographer started snapping pictures of the group of them, much to Cho's dismay. She bit her lip and glanced at Harry worriedly.

"Just a few pictures, sweetie. A bit of publicity never hurt anyone, right?"

"I beg to differ. Cho received hate mail the last time we were photographed together." Harry muttered, squeezing her hand. Rita's smile only widened and the quill that was hovering alongside her began writing furiously. 

"Well, Harry showed them. He wrote back nasty letters to all of them." Neville added staunchly. "I can't say any of us was too impressed with those people's behavior."   
The others nodded agreement. 

"So, I notice you've all a lot of bags…"

"We're trying to get the bulk of our Christmas shopping out of the way before we head back home for the holidays." 

Rita nodded absently while she craned her neck to see inside the bags. Her quill picked up speed. "Dark Magic? Interesting reading material you've got there, Mr. Potter."

"Dark Magic: A history" Harry stressed. "Edited by Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic, which is of course still used as the textbook for History of Magic at Hogwarts. I actually wrote the general introduction. The project was my idea in the first place. Madame Bagshot thought the project a worthwhile one and agreed to edit it. I'm afraid I don’t know the names of everyone who contributed essays, though I do know Madame Amelia Bones is at least one of them. She wrote an essay on the legal history and implications of dark magic. I'm sure it will be fascinating reading." 

Rita seemed to be barely listening, instead she was eyeing the scarves everyone was wearing. 

"This is quite an eclectic group of friends you've got here. I don't believe I've ever seen a group comprising all four houses sitting together so peacefully…tell me, Mr. Potter…what would you say to those of our readers who would be less than pleased at some of your choices in associates? Given that You-know-who was rumored to have been a member of Slytherin house, I'm sure there are many who would be surprised at your choice of companions."

Vince and Millicent stiffened and glared at the woman hatefully. 

"I would remind them that Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed my parents to their deaths, was a Gryffindor. I would also point out that if we were to shun everything that has even slightly troubling associations, we would soon find ourselves with nothing and no one to talk to. Wands have been used to commit countless crimes…should we all throw them away? Anyway, You-know-who being a member of Slytherin house isn't what made him a dark lord--it's not the house of evil, after all. Slytherin is the house of cunning and ambition. It just means that, being a Slytherin, he was ambitious enough to want to be a particularly infamous dark lord. They do say he's the worst one in a hundred years, correct? I guess that shows he succeeded in that much at least."

"I'm sure many would be surprised to hear you speak of You-know-who so casually."

"Why wouldn't I? If I might remind you, Miss Skeeter…he's gone, I'm not." 

He smiled then and leaned back very casually in his seat. Rita found herself shivering, just a bit as a primitive part of her brain began shrieking at her that there was a big, scary predator right in front of her…and it was getting annoyed.

"Now, Miss Skeeter, if that was all…it's just, we were about to order lunch…"

"It's been…interesting speaking with you, Mr. Potter."

"You flatter me, Miss Skeeter. The pleasure was all mine." 

Rita shot him one last shark-like grin, before bustling off, photographer in tow. Neville and Hannah let out a breath they hadn't realized they were holding, Vince and Millicent relaxed and grumbled a bit, and Cho sighed unhappily. 

"I really didn't like that woman. She looked at all of us, but especially you, like we were an all-you-can-eat buffet."

"She's dangerous, that one. They say the pen is mightier than the sword. People like her are why."

"Enough talk about reporter-lady. Let's eat." Neville interjected.

"That's a sentiment I can get behind, my friend. Ladies? Do you know what you want?"

 

Lavender read through her copy of 'Teen Witch Weekly' and then slanted and disturbed look Harry's way. Harry was busy eating at the moment and didn't notice, though Hermione did. She cast a questioning glance Lavender's way, and Lavender handed over the magazine, still open to the article in question. Hermione glanced at the picture--Harry, Cho Chang, Neville, Hannah Abbot, Crabbe and Bulstrode, seated in what appeared to be the Three Broomsticks. 

She scanned through the article quickly and found herself reluctantly impressed with the woman's skill. She didn't outright say anything that could be held against her, but she implied a lot; namely that Harry was a dark wizard in training, who admired You-know-who, and might already be assembling a coterie of followers so he could continue where Voldemort left off. It was subtle, but it was definitely there--even Lavender had noticed, which was saying something. 

Cho, looking pale and worried, was once again surrounded by a flock of owls--only two of which had been sent by Ginny. They had talked it over and decided a slower, long term approach was probably better. Ginny had letters made up and ready to send, one or two each day. Some were hexed, some were just nasty. After reading this article, Hermione was sure Ginny would have ample ammunition to use in penning further letters. 

She almost felt sorry for Cho… she wasn't as bad as some of the other Ravenclaw girls were. Oh well. It was for the best. Everyone agreed Ginny was a better match for Harry--even teachers! Why, Ginny had told her just the other day that McGonagall had been reminiscing about James and Lily Potter, and how much the two of them reminded her of them. She had told her to be patient; it had taken James Potter seven years to win Lily. Ginny wasn't that patient. Harry would be hers sooner or later. It really was better in the long run for Cho if she didn't go getting her hopes up and thinking they had a future together. Conscience appeased, she handed the magazine back to Lavender and continued with her breakfast. 

There was a commotion over at Ravenclaw as several of them, trying to be helpful, helped open letters. One guy sprouted warts all over his hands and face, another girl yelped and dropped the letter when it stung her, and Cho shrieked as her hands were covered in bubotuber puss when she opened the letter she had grabbed. Professor Flitwick was already down there, aghast at the commotion, and hustling the injured students to the medical wing in the care of their housemates, while he started banishing the letters so no one else would fall afoul of them. 

Harry stood and looked ready to follow, but the glares of Cho's friends made him reconsider. 

"Damn it! I told her to get a mailbox to screen her mail. I can't even retaliate, because Flitwick vanished all of it." 

"Yes, a terrible shame." Hermione agreed absently as she watched the injured being escorted from the room.

 

He didn't get a chance to talk to her until later that day. Madame Pomfrey had put her to bed with a calming draught after healing up her hands. Harry set up the vase and flowers he'd transfigured for her bedside table and sat down.

"Why didn't you get a mailbox like I suggested?"

"I didn't have enough money, and I figured it was just going to be more mean letters, not any of this. Um, Harry…I'm a little tired right now…"

Harry got a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he mustered up a smile for her somehow. "Sure. I'll get going then. I hope you feel better." 

 

Cho continued getting letters for the rest of the week. 

They told her she wasn't good enough for the hero of the wizarding world--she wasn't pretty enough, smart enough, or important enough. Some accused her of being an evil dark witch trying to corrupt the hero, others called her a gold-digging tart and warned her to watch her back. Many were laced with a variety of painful or disfiguring hexes, caustic substances or both. 

Professor Flitwick began bustling down to the Ravenclaw table whenever the mail came in to start vanishing the problem letters and send the owls on their way. On the fifth day no flock of owls came in, just an owl from her parents, who she'd tearfully written about what was happening. 

The knot in her shoulders that she'd started getting whenever the mail arrived each morning began to unwind, and she smiled genuinely for the first time in days. She had just pulled the letter and fed the owl a bit of bacon, when a second, identical owl flew down and landed nearby. Cho opened the letter, expecting an answer from her parents about what she should do. Her friends' sudden shout of warning came just a moment too late. 

Several hexes bombarded her at once and interfered with one another, leaving her hands and face covered in boils, on top of dry, painful scales, while tentacles sprouted from her cheeks and her front teeth began growing at an alarming rate. It was quite painful and disorienting. 

Cho began weeping as she carefully held her arms away from her body so they wouldn't jostle or bang into anything. Her friends scrambled from their seats and formed a protective ring around her as she headed towards the hospital wing. 

Harry sat back in his seat with a thump. Cho had been avoiding him all week, and after this last debacle, he knew with utter certainty that they were through. Not that he blamed her. 

He glanced around at his housemates, most of whom were either still stunned by the level of nasty a stupid article had garnered from the public, or discussing it loudly. That was when he caught something he probably wasn't intended to see. 

Hermione and Ginny watched Cho leave the great hall. Ginny looked smug, Hermione vaguely guilty, though she mustered up a small, smug smile when gleeful Ginny turned to her, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared once Ginny turned away back to her food, and wiped all traces of her giddiness from her face.

That was why hexed letters were still getting through, even after the wards were tweaked a bit at Flitwick's insistence to screen out letters carrying magic. The letters were being sent from within Hogwarts, and within the wards. 

Harry's face went blank and he slowly rose from his seat. He needed to get out of here before he filled both the treacherous bitches with a hail of kunai in front of all these witnesses.

He walked very slowly and carefully to the nearest room of requirement entrance, walked three times past it and then went through the door when it appeared. Inside was blank, but for a row of shelves filled with chipped dishes and vases at the far end. Harry drew his wand, and then turned in place, wand out and a snarl on his face when two people entered behind him. Thinking it was Hermione and Ginny there to gloat, he only just stopped himself from firing a couple of overpowered reductors, that at such close range would probably have killed both girls. 

Pansy and Millicent both froze and stood very, very still until he mastered himself. When he lowered his wand, they both relaxed and Millicent shut the door behind them. They each took a seat on the floor by the door and Millicent waved a hand.

"Don't mind us. Just do whatever you need to do." 

He took them at their word. He spent fifteen minutes decimating all manner of breakable things in various explosive ways.

Harry sudden stopped firing and shook his head. 

"This is ridiculous. Why am I wasting my time exploding dishes when I could just explode their damned heads? It's obvious both of them need to die, in as messy and painful way as possible. That means I'm going to have to take out the rest of the red-headed horde while I'm at it. I imagine they'll try to interfere when I disembowel their sister in front of them. Can't be helped. I guess I'll have to take out the parents. That's alright. I still owe Arthur Weasley one for obliviating me. I should drop his children's severed, dripping heads at his feet before I kill him. That should get the message across that I'm really not happy with him. I'll make his wife watch. She deserves a bit of punishment for not only unleashing that horror of a daughter of hers on the world, but encouraging her." He nodded to himself, satisfied with what needed doing. Millicent suddenly surged up behind him, grabbed both his wrists and crossed his arms over his chest before pulling him tight against her chest. Once she had him secure, Pansy plucked the wand from his fingers and tutted, before patting him on the cheek. 

"I'm afraid not, darling. You won't be going anywhere until your sanity, what little there is of it, comes back." 

"You can't stand Granger or the Weasellette. I'd think you'd enjoy seeing them eviscerated." 

Millicent snorted by his ear. "We could give two shakes what happens to either of them. You're right, we'd enjoy seeing them both taken down a notch."

"However, darling, you are our friend. Friends don't let friends go to Azkaban. Especially not for something as trivial as the unfortunate demise of a beaver and a gang of weasels."

"Sorry. You're staying right here until you get a hold of yourself."

"Yes, really darling. I realize you're overwrought, but you need to be Slytherin about this. Remember, revenge is a dish best served cold…and without any witnesses."

"I think it's safe to say Cho is going to break up with me."

"Yeah. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about that. Some of the Ravenclaw girls are real bitches. Chang was mostly alright, if a little fluttery for my taste." Millicent offered.

"And really, you can't blame the girl, given what's happened."

"I'm never going to get another date for the length of my years in Hogwarts, am I?"

"As of right now, probably not, unless it's with she-weasel. Of course, that was probably her intention. I guess she's finally cottoned on to the fact that the only way you'd even considered her was if she was the only possibility." 

"Fucking bitch. If she honestly thinks this will endear her to me, she's even loonier than I thought. The only thing she's likely to get from me is to be hung from the astronomy tower by her dripping entrails."

"That's the spirit, darling. Just because we don't intend to let you do any of it right now is no reason you can't dream a bit." 

Their tableau was interrupted when the door opened and Vince stuck his head inside. He looked at the three of them, and then opened the door further to step inside, quickly followed by Draco and Greg.

"So, kids, what are we doing here?"

"Planning out the painful and humiliating demise of Granger and the she-weasel."

"Oooh. Sounds like fun. Can we play too?"

"But of course, Draco dear. When it comes to revenge, the more the merrier, I always say."

"Yeah, you get more ideas that way." Greg agreed sagely. 

 

Cho broke up with Harry later that evening, after she was released from the hospital wing.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I just can't do this anymore. I've been having nightmares about cursed letters and my shoulders get tight whenever I see Colin running around taking pictures and…" 

She started crying then. She looked so miserable and upset, he couldn't find it in him to be angry at her--not that he was. He was sure there were lots of girls that would have dropped him like a hot potato after the first incident. Cho had stuck it out, and had gotten hurt repeatedly for her trouble, as had a couple of her housemates.  
Harry wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back until she stopped.

"I understand. I hate seeing you get hurt, and I certainly don't want a repeat. You didn't deserve any of this. You're one of the sweetest people I know."

Cho stepped back and wiped at her eyes.

"We can still be friends…in time." 

Cho looked torn between relief and sadness, as well as guilty for being relieved.

"Yeah. Friends." Cho agreed. 

She gave him a last wan smile and turned to go. Harry stopped her before she did, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her quite thoroughly. He had quite enjoyed sneaking around with her and spending quality time in different broom closets and empty classrooms. If he was about to go through a prolonged dry spell because Ginny was a psycho stalker bitch, he was damned well going to get in a last bit of snogging while he had the chance. 

Cho's lips were swollen, her hair slightly mussed and her eyes dazed when he was done. He dropped his hands and stepped back so she could leave.

Cho stared at him helplessly for a moment before repeating in a soft voice "I'm really sorry."

"So am I Cho, so am I." 

Cho sniffled a bit and then hurriedly left the room. Harry remained for a little while, staring at the wall, and trying to master his renewed fury, before leaving as well. 

 

When he entered Gryffindor, he saw Hermione and Ginny sitting together in an alcove whispering together. He couldn't bear the sight of them--especially Ginny's giddy grin.

Some of what he felt must have shown on his face, because Neville asked quietly "Alright there, Harry?"

"I will be Nev. I'm just going to head up to the dorm, alright? I don't really want company right now."

"Cho?"  
"Cho." Harry agreed.

Neville sighed, and patted his shoulder, before heading back to where the other guys were seated. 

He was glad Neville had just agreed to let him be for the moment. He needed to get himself sorted out, and to do that, he needed to be far away from the interfering bints who thought they had a right to decide who he was allowed to date. 

He and the Slytherins had stayed in the room for quite a while, just hanging out and discussing various revenge schemes that had just gotten sillier and more outlandish as the time wore on. They had eventually settled on a workable plan. Turnabout was fair play, wasn't it?

"It's perfect." Millicent had decided. "We'll only have to do the one. Everyone who sees it will know it was them. After that, all of Ravenclaw will be gunning for them. We won't have to lift another finger. As an added bonus, if we do it on the day they both have charms class, Flitwick will know it's them as well. He was really quite outraged on his students behalf. I wouldn't doubt he'll find some subtle way of getting vengeance as well. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will have them all fixed up in time for his class."

They had all had a good laugh at the idea. Remembering it now, and knowing that Ginny and Hermione were not going to get away with what they had done unscathed helped him put the last of his fury aside. By the time they were done with them, they would both rue the day they'd ever come up with their little plan.

 

Monday morning at breakfast, Harry did his best to act normally. He thought he did pretty well--no one asked him if he was alright, or seemed to be staring at him. He even managed not to smile in anticipation when Draco and Pansy sat down at the Slytherin table, caught his eye and nodded. 

They all still tensed slightly when the morning mail deliveries came in. 

The Weasley family owl, Errol, who looked rather like a flying dustmop (and oddly enough this one was--an animated, transfigured dust mop, that is), flew erratically to Ginny, landed with a flop in the middle of her eggs, sending them flying everywhere--though mostly on her--before falling over onto his back with his legs in the air, looking dead. Ginny muttered in disgust, picked the owl up by one of his legs and dropped him on the table, away from what was left of her breakfast, and pulled the letter while wiping stray bits of egg off her uniform. Meanwhile, a brown post office owl dropped a muggle envelope addressed in pen, and bearing Mrs. Granger's distinctive handwriting--dutifully copied from a sample envelope Parvati had nicked for them when asked. Hermione barely glanced at it, before beginning to open it, her eyes still mostly on her book. 

Ginny and Hermione's pained screams were music to his ears. 

They had put on _every_ hex that had been on all the letters sent to Cho, and then filled them with a mixture of the painful substances they'd laced the rest with. He watched them scream, flail and cry for a bit, and then glanced over at the Ravenclaw table. 

Grim realization was lighting many of their faces. Cho looked grim, but after a moment's thought, unsurprised. She glanced over at Harry, who gave her a tight smile in return.

She smiled wanly and nodded her thanks, before turning back to watch the two girls stumble out of the great hall. Hermione was trudging with her head down, and with tears leaking down her face. Ginny was screaming, crying and carrying on fit to wake the dead. 

Bullies always loved to dish it out, but whenever the tables turned, they never could seem to take it. 

Percy looked aghast, Ron furious. The twins, who were holding Ginny by either arm and hurrying her towards the hospital wing, traded a grim look over her head. They, at least, seemed to realize what it meant. He had a feeling Ginny wouldn't be getting much help from them when the Ravenclaws started in on her--at least not until they felt they'd evened the score. They'd probably move in to stop things after that.

Harry continued eating his breakfast with a lighter heart. He couldn't wait till they got to stage two--that wouldn't be for a while yet though. They wanted the love potion to be nice and strong before it was used. 

Try to dictate who he liked, would they?

Let's see how they liked it.

 

Ginny and Hermione had a rather miserable week after getting out of the hospital wing. 

They seemed to be continually tripping up stairs, stumbling into walls. They each had their bookbags mysteriously spit open while they were on the stairs, sending books, parchment, quills…and breakable bottles of ink, tumbling down the stairwell, making a mess, making them late to class. Oddly enough, it happened on the day they had charms. Professor Flitwick took points from both of them for handing in messy work. 

Ginny finally snapped at weeks end, started shrieking and trying to hex everyone in sight. 

The Ravenclaw girls put up shields, unlike the last time, and bounced the bat-bogey hexes right back at her. 

Ginny was swarmed under a veritable army of bats, and had to curl up in a ball on the floor to protect her eyes and face. Professor Flitwick stumbled across the commotion, looked from his students holding shields, to the shrieking girl on the floor. 

"Ten points to Ravenclaw for mastery of the shield charm."

He undid the bat-bogey hexes, took points from Gryffindor and assigned four nights of detention--one for each hex she cast, and then told her to get herself to the hospital wing. Ginny stomped off, crying and humiliated. Flitwick waited till she was out of earshot, before fixing his students with a stern look.

"I would say all accounts have been settled, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, sir." 

Flitwick nodded. "Carry on, then." 

 

Happily, all the vengeance taking finished up just as the end of term exams were set to begin. Everyone was wrung out--especially the fourth years, who would be taking their OWLs in just a few more months. The end of term Christmas party was a welcome relief to everyone. 

Stan had gotten them a small evergreen tree while he was getting the dozen large ones for the great hall. It was now set up in a corner of the Melting Pot, lovingly decorated by all the students. They had all made an ornament that they either just liked, or thought represented themselves. They had made a box to store them in when the tree was taken down. They figured they could trot them out next year, and add any new ones made by the new first years next year. 

Other than the personalized ornaments, there were charmed icicles, twinkling lights and a light dusting of charmed snow. The art club had made the large star at the top. At the start of the party, everyone left their Secret Santa presents beneath the tree, and then headed for the snack tables. 

The elves had made biscuits in different shapes, and brought pitchers of hot mulled cider and hot chocolate, along with plates of cheese, and a selection of fruits, as well as trays of peppermint sticks and gingerbread. There were even some Christmas crackers, that disgorged small gifts when you pulled them. Hannah and Susan had broken out their oven and made dozens of small cakes, which they'd decorated with red and green icing and sprinkles. Holly and evergreen boughs bedecked the rooms. They had even found seasonal music, which was playing softly in the corner--loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to make it difficult to hear what people were saying. A few games had been organized as well--charades, bobbing for apples, musical chairs--and of course the ever present exploding snap. 

The party started just after breakfast and lasted until just before dinner. Everyone exchanged gifts shortly before the dinner bell rang. Luna loved her rune stones, and in fact was already making plans to leave them outside during the next full moon to charge them with mystical energy. Harry's secret santa was Adrien Pucey, a Slytherin fourth year. He'd made him an animated rattlesnake statuette that would slither a few inches, then coil up defensively, hiss, flicker its tongue and shake its rattle. Harry loved it, though Ron grimaced and gave Pucey a dirty look when he saw what he'd made. 

At dinner, there was a feast to celebrate the end of term. Everyone was stuffed and sleepy by the time they all returned to their common rooms. Before they knew it, it was morning, and it was time to return home for the holidays.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winter holidays arrive. Harry goes to meet the goblins.

Harry had thought long and hard about how he was going to handle his upcoming appointment with Gringott's. 

Given Sirius' past reactions to Harry undoing horcruxes, even without the possible death by decapitation hanging over his head, it was obvious that he was going to have to lie, and then slip off to handle things alone. 

It wasn't like he was in a hurry to die--far from it. It was simply that he knew it needed to be done, and the sooner the better. 

He would never be free, and never able to live his own life so long as he held the only remaining anchor to Voldemort's immortality. The goblins had been searching for some means to remove the soul piece without him needing to die, but they hadn't found anything, beyond what he was already doing; namely, invoking the remorse clause. 

If he tried to chicken out, he'd have the goblins hunting him down. There was always a chance Voldemort would manage to come back in the meantime. If that happened, lots of people would die--including Harry. Voldemort was sure to be hunting him down for vengeance, and the only way he could die was if Harry did as well. 

Given the layers of secrecy, silence and weirdness that had surrounded him since the night his parents died, that was exactly what Dumbledore wanted, it seemed. He certainly didn't seem to be doing anything to try removing the horcrux. If he believed the one in Harry was the only one, then not doing something to destroy it was downright criminal. He was practically inviting Voldemort to rise again. 

It had been over a decade since that night. Dumbledore had all that time to find answers to the horcrux. Barring that, he could have had feelers out searching for the free piece of Voldemort. There were ways to trap a spirit. Had he captured and secured the free piece, Harry could have simply lived his life. When he eventually died, he would have taken Voldemort with him--well, had he been the only one. Either way, the threat would have been removed long ago. Instead, Dumbledore had turned all his energy and authority towards imprisoning him with his relatives, keeping him ignorant and downtrodden, sealing his records--after making free with the parts of his inheritance that were useful and accessible to him, and leaving Sirius in Azkaban. 

Harry had been back in the wizarding world for three years now. In all that time, Dumbledore hadn't offered extra training. He hadn't shared his knowledge of the horcrux with Sirius--a man he now knew to have never been a death eater, let alone the death eater spy in their midst. Instead, he kept trying to convince Sirius he was better off back with the Dursleys, and the only time he spoke to him was to accuse him of trying to kill people. 

No, it was clear that finishing Voldemort was in his hands alone. Dumbledore might very well obliviate him again, since he seemed to want Voldemort to come back at some point. Sirius would probably do something stupid and either set off a goblin rebellion or get himself killed. 

Hence, his plan.

He waited till the others exited the train compartment, cast a partial henge on himself to disguise his forehead, and headed out to the platform.

 

"So, it's all done? It's over? Voldemort is gone?"

"Yep. You can see the difference in my scar." 

"You shouldn't have done it while holed up alone somewhere in the school. What if something had happened to you?"

"I'm sure I'd have been found eventually. In fact, given how obsessive Granger is about knowing where I am and what I'm doing, I'm sure I'd have been found rather quickly actually."

"It's really over. I can't believe it. This is great news!" 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"You could try being happier--you're free!"

"You know it takes a lot out of me. This one was the worst yet, painwise, since it was in me and not off in the distance. I guess I'm just tired. I'm sure I'll perk up as the holiday commences." 

"Speaking of the holidays… We saw you and your little girlfriend's pictures. Will we be meeting the young lady at some point?" Sirius asked, while waggling his eyebrows.

Harry sighed. "I can guarantee you won't be. Cho and I are quits." 

"What happened? She find another guy?"

"Noooo. She got bombarded with hate mail and hexed letters after each of the articles came out. She started getting sick to her stomach whenever the morning mail arrived, and then ending up hurt in the hospital wing afterwards. She said she just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't really blame her." 

"The poor girl!" Adeline gasped, horrified.

"Why didn't you mention any of this?" Sirius demanded of Remus, who would be staying with them for the holidays, rather than at the castle. 

"I assumed Harry had already told you." 

"Harry!"

"What? I'm telling you now. It's not like you could have done anything." 

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is the point?" Harry muttered, as his jaws were cracked by a large yawn. "You know, I'm still a bit beat--the long train ride didn't help things. I'm gonna go turn in, alright?"

"What about dinner?"

"Not hungry, really." Harry didn't mention that he'd had the house elves pack him some food in a picnic basket to take on the train. He had a nice lunch, dinner and snacks on the ride home, in preparation for this scene.

"You have to eat something."

"I'll be fine. See everyone in the morning." 

Harry walked slowly, but steadily up the stairs, conscious of the eyes watching him. He yawned again, just before moving out of sight of the watchers below, and then walked a bit faster up the remaining stairs. 

When he arrived at his room, he found Oddment had unpacked the top part of his trunk, which held his school things, already. He had left the bottom compartment--which was actually a room--alone. That was fine. He could put the latest load of books he'd amassed on the shelves in his library in the morning, though that reminded him of something else he had down there. 

"Oddment!"

"You is calling, young master?"

"Yeah, follow me a sec." Harry directed, before climbing down into the second compartment. Oddment popped down a moment later. The back half of the room was filled with stacks of books, and behind that more tapestries, magical items and assorted furniture and knick-knacks. The front half, near the ladder, held boxes full of empty bottles. 

"I remembered you said you were brewing and making wine and stuff to restock the wine cellar. I found these bottles, and I thought they might come in handy."

"That was very thoughtful of you young master."

"No problem--there were hundreds of them. I only took a few dozen. No sense leaving perfectly good bottles to go to waste, right?" 

He wasn't exaggerating either. There were hundreds of empty bottles in the room of broken things--sherry bottles, whiskey bottles, wine bottles, bourbon, cognac, mead--you name it. Perishable items, like the leftovers from dinner, were recycled by the elves and used for the compost heap. Non-perishables, like liquor bottles, were gathered up and stuffed in the room then forgotten about. 

Anytime he felt even vaguely guilty about making off with so many things from that room at Hogwarts, he just had to remember what a godawful trash heap it was to feel better about things. Besides, he needed some of that stuff to be able to fully furnish his house when he eventually moved in there--a lot of stuff got carried off by souvenir hunters when the cottage his parents and he were hiding in blew up. Even with everything that had been removed from that room, there was no noticeable dent in the sheer amount of stuff that was in there. He never felt guilty about it for long.

Now that Oddment was gone, the only thing really left was to go to bed. He was actually a little tired--he blamed the stress of knowing his deadline was quickly approaching. Something could still go wrong, not allowing him to remorse away the last horcrux. 

He was also a little worried about the 'ritual' the goblins were setting up to help facilitate the removal. He'd emailed Griphook several times to ask questions about it, but he'd been closed mouthed on the subject. He told him not to worry about it, that everything would be fine, just be there on the 31st so they could get started. It didn't exactly fill him with confidence. 

Whatever. 

He still had more than a week to fret about it, and that would never do. He was going to put it out of his mind, get some sleep, enjoy his holiday as best he could, and when the 31st arrived, he'd deal with whatever happened. It was really the only thing he could do at this point.

Having found his resolve, he took a quick shower, changed into some comfy pajamas, and climbed into bed. He was sound asleep just a few minutes later.

 

"You must be feeling better, if you're back to waking up at the crack of dawn to exercise."

"Told you I was fine." 

"Glad to hear it. Come on, breakfast is on."

Harry didn't comment on all the adults watching him from the corner of their eyes all through breakfast. Hopefully they would stop soon when he showed no signs of being ill, exhausted or injured. He'd purposefully done an all-out workout this morning to work up a big appetite. He loaded down his plate with a bit of everything and went to work on it. Seeing him put away food like a human-shaped garbage disposal seemed to alleviate the last of their worries. 

After breakfast they decorated the tree. 

It was nice, being here again for the holidays. The air smelled of pine, cinnamon, gingerbread and mint. Snow had fallen during the night and left a light coating of white everywhere you looked, and coated all the windows. The wizarding wireless was belting out holiday music--Christmas carols as well as traditional Yule music, though the Christianized music far outstripped the pagan stuff, which was beyond weird when you considered that it was Christian churches who had done all the witch hunts. It wasn't PC to bring that up though. 

It was hard to follow the old ways in the modern wizarding world. All the feasts and holidays at Hogwarts were based on muggle traditions, not wizarding ones. The Ministry followed the same trend. 

At Hogwarts, they usually managed to do the Spring and Summer dances, but things kept getting in the way of doing fall or winter--and Harry doubted that was coincidence. Fall and Winter were the 'dark' half of the year, after all. 

When he'd first been learning the dances, he'd just thought it something quirky and fun to do. Since then though, he'd come to realize they were important, he could feel it. Having all these road blocks being put in to force them to stop them made him twitchy. It had never bothered him before, but suddenly the muggle Christmas carols belting out of the wireless, and the lack of outlets for wizarding traditions just made him upset. Everything was all wrong. Even in the so-called wizarding world, there was no place for wizards. It shouldn't be like this. 

Suddenly, his thoughts turned again to the gatemaker. He'd yet to construct the thing--Cho had been with him both times he was in Hogsmeade, and she'd pretty much decided where they were going to go and what they were going to do. If he wanted to get started trying to make the thing, he really needed to gather up what he'd need before heading back to school--if he survived the 31st, that is. 

"Hey, I need to run to Diagon Alley. I have some last minute shopping to do." 

"I hadn't really planned to go out today" Sirius grumbled from where he was ensconced on the loveseat in front of the fire with Adeline and a cup of mulled wine.

"I can go myself, you know. It's not like it's far." 

"Alright, you can go, so long as you're home well before dinner. Make sure you get something to wear for Christmas and New Year's while you're out." 

"No problem." 

 

Harry flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, so he wouldn't waste time walking from Grimmauld Place to the Alley, and then headed for Twilfit and Tattings for his holiday robes first. That would give him time to do his other shopping while waiting for them to be made. Once he'd been measured and fitted and chosen his patterns, he hurried to Knockturn to get the various raw materials he'd need to construct his device. Once he had all that secured, he headed back to Diagon, where he purchased a small wizarding tent, and the odds and ends needed to stock it, then went and purchased food he could seal away and store in there. He was cutting things close by the time he hurried back to get his robes. 

He couldn't floo back to the house, because it was blocked on the house side. Calling the Knight bus was best saved for longer trips. He debated with himself a moment, and then ducked out of sight of the pedestrians that were still out and about. 

He'd picked up a bit more than just Tom Riddle's life story from communing with the picture he'd made. He'd also learned how to apparate, although he'd as yet been unable to test the knowledge--he'd been grounded half the summer, and Hogwarts was covered in anti-apparition wards. 

He stowed away his shopping, concentrated on the bit of side yard around Grimmauld Place, turned in place and…felt like he was momentarily squooshed, but it was over so quickly he'd barely noticed before it was already over. He opened his eyes and looked around, and had to quell the urge to do a happy dance. He was right where he'd pictured.

"That will definitely come in handy in the future." Harry chortled to himself quietly, before hurrying to the front of the house. 

"It's about time. We were just about to send out a search party."

"Ha, ha. I wasn't gone that long." 

 

The holiday, as it always seemed to, sped along at breakneck speed. It seemed Harry had no sooner returned than it was Christmas--presents, food and a Ministry ball to attend. The days before and after were spent decorating, visiting or being visited, wrapping presents and taking things easy. 

Before he knew it, it was the 31st. 

Harry woke ate breakfast and took it easy. Just after dinner , he dressed in his robes for the party later and then made a shadow clone. Once the clone was made, he changed into comfortable everyday clothes. 

The clone headed downstairs. Once it and the rest of them had left, Harry donned his invisibility cloak and ghosted out of the house, before apparating to the alley beside Gringott's. 

Once there, he put his head up, his shoulders back, called up his meditation quiet place, and strode in the front doors. Come what may, he would meet his fate proudly and unafraid.

 

Narcissa Malfoy smiled and excused herself from the group of people she was talking to and glided across the ballroom smiling and nodding as she went. She had spotted one of the house elves standing just out of sight of the guests, wringing its hands.

"Dobby? What is it?"

"One of mistress' guests is popping off suddenly. Dobby is thinking he is apparating, but Mr. Harry Potter sir is not only too young to be doing so, the party is still going, and Mr. Harry Potter sir's Siri and Addy is still being here." 

Narcissa blinked, translated the elf's words into plain English, and then frowned. "Harry Potter apparated out of the party? Are you sure?"

"Dobby is seeing him do so. He is slipping into side room and then disappearing." 

"Must have been a portkey" she muttered to herself. "Did he look surprised or anything?"

"No, mistress."

"Thank you, Dobby. You did well to bring this to me." 

Dobby's breath caught in wonder and his eyes filled with tears. 

"You is being very welcome, mistress." 

Narcissa nodded absently and hurried off to find her cousin.

 

"What do you mean Harry disappeared? To where? When?"

"One of the house elves saw him slip into a side room and vanish. He must have a portkey… You didn't know he was going somewhere?" she then demanded. "I was mostly just annoyed that you were all apparently going to just leave without a word…but none of you knew?"

Her eyes darted around the room and saw that people were beginning to pay attention to them. She dug her nails into Sirius' arm and led him away from the crowd before he made a scene. She was not having another one of her parties ruined by a hysterical Gryffindor.   
She saw Adeline nonchalantly making her way through the crowds towards them, and sighed in relief. She was usually able to keep Sirius' zanier impulses under control.   
Lucius was holding court at one end of the ballroom, though she could see he noticed her leading Sirius away. He'd reigned in his initial urge to scream, but he was nonetheless a bit pasty and wild-eyed.   
She got Sirius into Lucius' study, where they were joined by not only Adeline, but Remus, Barty and Nymphadora as well.

"What is it? What's going on?"

"Harry left. He had a portkey or something." Sirius said through numb lips.

"You think he was kidnapped or something?" Dora demanded worriedly.

"It's the 31st. He lied to us." 

Both Narcissa and Dora became alarmed as Adeline and Remus gasped, and then got as wild eyed and pasty faced as Sirius was.

"We need to get to Gringott's! We have to stop this!" 

"Why would he do this? Did it not work? Surely there must be another way…just because we haven't yet found it doesn't mean it isn't there! We need more time!" 

"Whoa, whoa! What's going on?' Barty demanded.

"Harry's scar. He's gone to the goblins." 

Barty cursed and slapped his forehead. "I'm going to kill that kid when I get my hands on him!" 

Dora and Narcissa looked around, realized they were the only ones not in on the crisis, whatever it was.

"Start talking. Now." Dora demanded.

"Can't. We need to move. It's only a few minutes till midnight. We don't have much time." 

"Floo. Need the floo."

Narcissa didn't know what was going on, but she could sense how urgent it was. Wordlessly she unlocked the floo and held out the container of powder kept nearby. 

"Barty, I want explanations!"

"Later, I'll tell you on the way. Move, move!" 

One after another they vanished into the flames.

Severus Snape peeked his head in the door just in time to see Barty Crouch disappear.

"Narcissa?" his voice held a question.

"Lucius sent you?"

"He gave me the signal to go investigate. What's going on?"

"I haven't the foggiest, beyond that it involves Harry Potter and goblins on the 31st. He apparently lied to them all about something, and then slipped away to use a portkey. They all got pale as ghosts and took off to try and get to the bank before midnight to stop whatever it is."

Snape grimaced sourly and gestured for the floo powder. He didn't want to go haring off to Gringott's at this time of night, but he had promised to protect Lily's boy.   
"It would be good to have some forewarning if there's to be another goblin rebellion." he murmured, before vanishing as well.

Narcissa waited till the flames went orange again, set aside the floo powder, patted her hair and gown, before pasting on her best gracious hostess face and heading back out to work the crowd. She was curious as anything, but neither she nor Lucius could leave, since it was their party--more's the pity. 

 

Severus Snape ignored the few revelers in the Leaky, and stalked towards the entrance to Diagon alley. One inside, he hurried his steps towards Gringott's bank, and then stopped dead in the doorway, his face going pale, even as his stomach started flipping and twisting itself in knots. The whole of the floor was filled with goblin warriors kitted out in their full armor, and every last one of them was holding a sharp weapon of some sort. 

He heard movement behind himself and turned to find some of the goblin warriors had cut off any escape and had shut the doors to prevent anyone else from coming in.

"You heard me, human. If you want to go to where the boy is, you need to surrender your wand. We will not allow any of you to disrupt the ceremony. If you comply, you will be taken to a viewing room so you can witness the results, but you will not be allowed to interfere. The boy made his deal in good faith, and he came here without coercion to satisfy the deal he made. We will not allow you to take away his honor. Make your choice."

Sirius closed his eyes in despair and dropped his wand into the box being held out by the goblin warrior. Even if he couldn't do anything, he at least needed to be there. 

The rest of them followed suit, one by one. 

"Severus? What are you doing here?" Barty suddenly exclaimed in surprise. 

"Lucius asked me to find out what was going on…and he's Lily's son." he added more quietly. 

It was a mark of how upset Sirius was that he didn't object to Snape's presence, call him names, or try to hex him. He just followed their guide down into the tunnels. 

 

"Good lord." Dora squeaked when their guide led them to the 'viewing room'--it was actually a balcony, not a room as such. It was situated high in the wall of what had to be the biggest cavern any of them had ever seen. 

There were what had to be hundreds of goblins filling the cavern. Most were dressed as warriors, though there were others pounding on wide kettle drums that filled the cavern with a throbbing heartbeat. They were also chanting in gobbledygook. In the center of the cavern was a lake. Rising out of the center was the trunk of an enormous tree, which they realized was actually carved stone made to look like a tree. 

They followed it upwards with their eyes and saw the top of the cavern was carved as well to look like branches and leaves--all of it done so cunningly, they half expected it to shiver in a passing breeze. They only admired the craftsmanship for a moment though, before their eyes were drawn back to the tiny figure hanging from one foot from one of the lowest branches. He was unclothed but for a pair of shorts, and had a spear in his side. The spear was coated with blood that was slowly dripping off the end and landing drop by drop in the lake below. 

"What the hell is going on here?"

"I should like to know that as well." Snape croaked as he gripped the edge of the balcony with white-knuckled hands. He was going to kill that idiot boy when he got a hold of him.

Sirius was too busy staring at Harry, his face bloodless. Adeline split her worried gaze between her husband and the boy hanging from the tree. Remus looked no better than Sirius, and Dora didn't know anything. Barty looked around and realized he was the only one who could explain.

"I don't know what the deal is with this ceremony, but the reason he's here is because of something we discovered about his scar a while ago. Truthfully, I should say something that Harry discovered and was already taking care of. The only reason any of the rest of us know anything is because it took such a toll on him each time." He glanced at his wife and held up a hand before she could begin tearing into him. "Sirius and Remus found out and brought me in to help them research because I know a bit more about the dark arts than either of them. You wouldn't have been any help with that part, and we all agreed it was best to keep the number of people who knew to a minimum. It could have had terrible consequences for Harry if it got out."

"That's all very well and good….what was it you all discovered?" Snape demanded impatiently.

"Have you ever heard the term horcrux?"

Snape narrowed his eyes and searched his memory for a few moments before shaking his head. Dora shook her head immediately.

"I'm not surprised. We all spent quite a while trying to find out about it. If it weren't for a single book in the Black library that we found pretty much by accident as it was hidden, we wouldn't know even as much as we do." 

He shivered, remembering some of what was in there. He was no stranger to the study of the dark arts, but what was in that book…

"The book was called 'Secret of the _darkest_ art. We only found two other books that even reference the term, and both said it was something they weren't willing to talk about, before going on to talk about all sorts of foul and terrible curses. A horcrux is a vessel you prepare to hold a portion of your soul. It's a method of immortality. The means of making one are foul…and the consequences to the maker are equally horrific. It's a really dreadful thing."

Snape began paling the longer Barty spoke. "What does this have to do with Potter?" he asked, though he was certain he could guess.

"Voldemort tore himself into seven pieces. There was the piece running around killing and torturing, and the six vessels that held the remainder of his soul. By luck or happenstance, Harry ended up in possession of the things one after another. He figured out what they were and started undoing them. The goblins have never heard of a living horcrux before, and they didn't know any way to remove it from him without killing him. He told them he was going to try what worked on the others, namely invoking the remorse clause on Voldemort's behalf. They offered to see he received a warrior's death if it failed, and he accepted. He managed to get rid of all the rest. He's the last one. He told the others that he'd already undone it, and then slipped away when no one was looking. If his usual methods didn't work…the goblins are going to kill him to make sure Voldemort stays dead." 

"Is that why they're all in armor?" Dora gasped, horrified.

"Yeah--both to give Harry a proper warrior's death…and to keep any other wizards from interfering."

Snape swallowed thickly and then cast a sideways glance at Barty, as well as the two remaining Marauders.

"Why did none of you approach Albus? He's widely considered the greatest wizard of the age. Surely he could have found a way to remove it that didn't necessitate a thirteen year old boy asking the goblins to kill him!"

"He's known about it all this time. As near as any of us can tell, his only actions regarding Harry were to spirit him away and keep him imprisoned and ignorant with abusive, magic-hating muggles, make free with any of the kid's assets he was able to get his hands on, and leave his proper guardian to rot in Azkaban. None of us are quite sure what the old man's plans are, but we all agree that it doesn't look good for Harry. This, terrible as it is…he's at least going out on his own terms, and not as someone else's tool or plaything. I can only respect that." Barty said quietly.

The throbbing drum-beat and chanting that filled the cavern picked up pace, and the warriors began bashing their weapons into their shields each time their chant reached a certain pitch. 

A breeze--not of wind, but of pure magic, began slithering through the cavern, raising goosebumps on everyone's skin. 

They all flinched each time the warriors shouted and smashed their shields, but their eyes were still on Harry. 

Blood was still dripping down into the water below, but as midnight struck, his body went deathly still. At the same moment, the chanting and banging shields stopped, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. 

After a moment, they realized the drums were still going, but quieter now and slower. They weren't sure what was going on, but they held their breath, and waited for some sign of whether Harry would live or die. 

 

_  
Harry found himself immersed in a pool of clear water. He could see sunlight far above him, and began swimming to reach it. After what seemed a ridiculously long swim, he finally broke the surface and crawled out, though he was dry when he stood up. He was in a field of grass that went on as far as the eye could see in every direction. The grass was an eye-searing emerald green, the sky an eye-searing cerulean blue, filled with puffy white clouds. The colors were so pure, so vivid, he was sure they'd never before been seen in nature. It was as though all the green grass, blue skies and white clouds he'd ever seen in his life were but a pale reflection of these._

_Two people were approaching him from the distance. He started to move towards them, but some instinct warned him not to wander too far from where he stood. His instincts were usually good, so he stayed put. As the figures drew closer, he could see it was a man and a woman. The man wore glasses and had black hair, and a thin, lanky build. The woman had vivid red hair and green eyes. He'd only ever seen pictures of them before, but he knew them instantly. It was his parents, James and Lily Potter._

_"I'm dead then? Funny…I don't remember the goblins cutting off my head. The last thing I remember was being hung upside down from a tree and getting stabbed with a spear."_

_"You've led an interesting life, haven't you, son?"_

_"Eh." Harry shrugged._

_He took two steps forward and found himself in a three way embrace--the first he could remember since his memories of them had been taken away when he was a baby. For all that he'd been dreading the 31st for weeks, now that he was here, he wondered what he'd been so worried about._

_He was here, with his parents, and all his cares seemed far away._

_He wasn't sure how long the three of them stood like that before something intruded. It was the sound of a baby crying. Harry lifted his head and looked around, searching for the crying child._

_He finally spotted it, laying as though tossed aside like rubbish on the edge of the large lake behind him._

_He was distracted for a moment by the tree that was nearby. It was the hugest tree he'd ever seen or imagined. It's trunk was enormous, it's branches could have held nations on them, and its leafy crown spread so far and wide, it mimicked the sky in its girth. One enormous root sunk into the lake and disappeared from sight. The impressive tree carving in the goblins' sacred cavern was a pale, pale imitation of it. It was humbling to simply be in its presence, and the human mind couldn't quite wrap itself around its immense grandeur._

_The crying baby drew his attention once more, and Harry took a step towards it. It was horrible--it looked mutilated and flayed, and lay there gasping--a horrible, wet sound--between pained cries._

_Harry's parents stopped him from going closer._

_"Leave it, Harry. There's nothing you can do for it." James cautioned._

_"Surely there has to be something. You can't really mean that we should just leave it there, and ignore its suffering!"_

_"He's a monster, Harry, and it's a fitting end for him. He'll stay like that--eternally suffering, never able to move on." Lily added._

_Harry understood then. This was the piece of Voldemort's soul that had been in him. The last horcrux._

_"Come on, Harry, just ignore it."_

_Harry started to turn away, but then he hesitated._

_He knew Tom Riddle's life, or at least large parts of it. He knew how he'd ended up as he did. It didn't excuse any of it, exactly…but at the same time…_

_One could hardly blame a child for learning the lessons he was taught, could you?_

_He had been an extremely magical parselmouth baby in a poor, overcrowded orphanage--where there had never been enough food or enough hands to go around--from the moment he was born._

_If he hissed his distress as a fragile newborn--it was either not heard, or got him shunned as a devil child._

_Muggles had done research on babies who grew up in institutions and were never held. They developed 'Reactive Attachment Disorder' and in severe cases, developed all sorts of problems. Unlike himself, he'd never had anyone who loved him in those critical early years._

_He'd learned from day one that no one could be trusted or counted on._

_Even when he'd gotten a bit older--he was the freak, the weirdo, the victim of choice for the bullies in the orphanage--and there were lots of them._

_He learned that there was power--and you were either the victim, or the one who victimized others._

_He'd learned that people didn't like to deal with unpleasant things, and few looked beyond the surface. If you looked good, you were good. All you had to do was smile in the right places, say the right words and know the right people--_

_However, sometimes you did all this, and people who had power over you still used it to thwart you and make your life difficult--which of course, meant you needed more power so you could stop being the victim and go back to being the victimizer._

_He'd grown up in London during the war, and had been stuck there, powerless, while London was being bombed into the ground. His magic, his power, his schmoozing and networking all school year made no difference there--he could be as easily blown away as any of the muggles he was trapped with._

_He learned to fear death--equated it with powerlessness. What does one do when powerless? One gets the power to protect themselves._

_He did just exactly that, and whatever humanity he'd had disappeared bit by bit._

_Voldemort was mad, and broken and so filled with fear and rage and self-hatred…and he'd lashed out at the world around him while he searched for something, some proof that he finally had the power to be safe._

_He'd never had anyone who loved him--he'd had admirers, sychophants, hangers on, parasites, and victims aplenty…but not a single person who would mourn his death. Not a single person who saw him enough to realize what was happening to him. Not a friend, not a lover, no family either._

_There was no one. No one but him._

_"Where is there an end to suffering, where is there forgiveness if not in death?" Harry sighed._

_Harry broke away from his parents' hold and approached the baby. It was even more horrible close up, and truthfully, he really didn't want to touch it…but if not him, who? There wasn't a single other person who cared enough to even make the attempt._

_"HARRY! NO! LET HIM SUFFER! YOU KNOW WHAT HE'S DONE! NOT JUST TO US, BUT TO EVERYONE!"_

_He glanced back at them and sighed again. "Yes. I do know. I know far better than either of you. I know he killed you...but it was quick, and you didn't suffer. Not then...and by the looks of this place, not in any of the years after."_

_Harry ignored their entreaties and gathered the baby into his arms. Now that he was closer, he realized the baby was hissing 'help me, help me'._

_Harry hissed back to him. "You're safe. It's alright. I'll help you."_

_The flayed and mutilated skin was painful to even look at. Harry scooped up some water from the lake and tried washing his arm in it. It was cold and full of runes, oddly enough. Harry shrugged and kept scooping and washing--runes were magical, maybe they'd help._

_It did seem to be doing something. The skin got noticeably less mutilated. The baby's whimpers quieted down, and it watched him with pained, solemn eyes._

_"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Harry hissed._

_He submerged the baby into the water, halfway, keeping him facing him, and continued scooping water over the flayed skin that wasn't submerged. While he washed, he hissed a lullabye._

_The baby continued to grow less wounded, and the wet, rasping breaths eased. When the last of the remaining runes had been scooped up and poured over the child, he began to disappear, though he looked peaceful and unafraid as he vanished._

_Harry smiled, and hoped Tom Riddle could rest in peace, wherever it was he was going now._

_He glanced back over his shoulder at his parents, but they seemed terribly far away. His last sight of them was of the two of them standing together, clinging to one another. He reached out towards them, but they vanished, just as the colorful scenery began to break apart.  
_

Harry took a deep breath. He was in pain and he was dizzy, while his head was pounding. His ankle really hurt as well. 

His eyes fluttered open and he found himself back in the cavern beneath Gringott's. 

Somehow, he mustered the strength to reach up and seize the spear and pull it from his side. It was slick with his blood and hard to hold on to, but he managed to keep hold long enough to sever the rope that bound him to the tree before it slipped from his grasp. The spear tumbled down into the water below just moments before he himself did.   
The water was icy cold, and shocked him through. He managed to get himself turned around enough to kick upwards towards the surface. 

A mighty shout and clamor greeted his reappearance. He could see runes and symbols and what looked like kanji, though the few he saw were a bit different than the kanji he was used to. They seemed to be formed of his blood, and were floating on the water. 

As he began to climb upwards from the water, they seemed to drift towards him and attached themselves on his skin. With every step he took, the blood runes began to spiral across his body, leaving room for the rest to attach themselves as well. Half poured themselves into the wound on his side, the rest into the wound on his head. By the time he reached the shore, he was healed and whole. 

He was also wet…and cold. Can't forget cold. 

The goblin shamans came to meet him. The one in the lead had his dress robes, which he'd brought along so there'd be no questions, and more importantly, his wand. He took the wand gratefully and cast a couple of quick charms to dry and warm himself, before getting dressed. 

Once dressed, the lead shaman beckoned him to bend down so he could reach his head. He ran his finger down the scar and nodded.

"It is done!" 

The gathered goblins roared and the drums and chanting started up again, though this time it was a thank you to the great spirits for their intercession and wisdom, followed by a celebratory ode to Harry himself. 

It was a bit embarrassing, but he took it in the spirit it was intended--every goblin warrior who faced a great battle got an ode to their deeds added to the book of lore. 

Harry didn’t know if the 'book of lore' was an actual book, if it was carvings on the walls of the caverns somewhere, or if it was just the collective memory of the goblins--he'd never asked. He only knew as much as he did because Griphook had told him that live or die his ode would be added to the book. 

The chanting finished, and the goblins all cheered, before breaking out the grog and having a party. Harry grinned at them all, and then risked a peek at the viewing room to see who all was there, if anyone, and then sighed at the sizeable group he found there. 

Sirius, who was collapsed against the side of the balcony, and shaking like a leaf. 

Remus, who was sagged against Sirius' shoulder, looking ready to pass out.

Adeline, on Sirius' other side, wiping tears and rubbing Sirius' back. 

Barty, pale and shaken, but grinning like a loon.

Dora, sobbing against his shoulder.

Last but not least…Snape. 

How he'd ended up in this particular group, he'd never know. He looked relieved and pissed off and shaken, though he seemed to be doing his best to hide it and look as forbidding and inscrutable as he usually did.

The goblins nearest all snickered at his woebegone expression.

"Damn. I was really hoping they wouldn't notice I was gone. It would have made things so much easier." 

Griphook, who was among those snickering, led him to the tunnel that would eventually lead upwards to both the viewing room and the outside. 

 

Harry was surrounded and pounced on the moment he showed his face among his family. None of them could seem to decide whether they were relieved or furious. 

"I don't believe you!" Sirius finally snarled, once he'd gotten a hold of himself. "You looked us all in the eye and lied your ass off the moment you walked in the front door!"

"Of course I did." Harry agreed, without a trace of remorse. "It needed to be done, and all of you were determined to stand in the way of things. Had you known I was coming here beforehand, you would have done something stupid. This was my task, and I did it. End of story." 

"You…you just…ARGH!" Sirius shouted. 

"See? You can't handle the pressure, which I'm guessing is why I'm prophecy boy and you're not. Anyway, it is actually done now, so no worries."

"I don't think so! I should turn you over my knee!"

"For saving the wizarding world from a second war? For abiding by my word? For taking my responsibilities seriously?" 

"For lying and being a sneaky, conniving brat!"

"Hmph. I'd think you'd be proud, Mr. Marauder. Besides, I already told you, lying was a necessary evil, and there's nothing wrong with being sneaky and conniving when it's called for. I refuse. I only have a few days of vacation left, and I will not be punished for this! Not for doing the right thing!" 

"You don't get a say in this!" 

"Why don't we all calm down, huh?" Adeline interjected firmly. "Let's go home." 

Sirius huffed, but he let the tension run out of him. "Fine. Home sounds good." he agreed, though he still looked ready to throttle Harry for running off and not telling them. He could have died, and they wouldn't have known a thing until the goblins delivered his head. He didn't care what the brat said, that was not alright!

 

When they stepped outside of Gringott's the night was clear and cold. Sirius grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and apparated them both away with a loud 'crack'. The rest of the party followed moments later. 

Snape was left standing alone in the alley, listening to the sound of various New Year's celebrations taking place in the flats above the shops as he traversed the alley back towards the Leaky Cauldron. 

It had been a shocking night. If the Potter boy was right and all the horcruxes were indeed gone then he was free, for the first time in years. No more worries about the Dark Lord returning and torturing them all into frothing insanity before killing them, no more having to obey Dumbledore. 

He had only promised to obey so long as Lily's boy needed protection--he had managed to keep that much of his wits about him when Dumbledore had pulled his guilt trip moments after he'd discovered Lily was dead, while he was still bereft and grief-stricken. "Promise to obey me." He had urged, while dangling redemption and an end to the guilt and pain that tormented him. "Help me keep Lily's boy safe. Lord Voldemort will rise again, and he'll want vengeance."

Out of his mind as he was, he had agreed. It had given him something to hold on to during those first, terrible days. 

At that point, little Harry had already been whisked away to live with hateful relatives, to not be seen or heard from again for a decade. 

When he had made his promise, he had assumed he would be free to live his life until Harry was of an age and in a position that he'd need protecting, but no. Dumbledore had held him to his promise to obey, and had him jumping through hoops from day one--and he was bound as tightly to the old man as he'd ever been to the Dark Lord. The only thing that made it better was that at least with the old man he didn't have to worry about being crucioed on a regular basis--although he found sometimes, when his patience had run thin, he'd almost preferred the Dark Lord's punishments. At least with him, you just writhed in pain for a few minutes and it was over. With Albus, he never let you forget that you'd disappointed or displeased him, he constantly interfered, manipulated and played games with you and then sat there twinkling at you, and he kept you on a very, very short leash. 

He was free. 

He could feel his shoulders unknot, and he took a deep breath, letting the tension seep out of him. 

For the first time in far too many years, he was his own man again. It felt wonderful.

He was actually smiling as he stepped into the floo at the Leaky Cauldron.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the school year, some amusing but ultimately unsatisfying vengeance, and Harry builds a gatemaker and acquires some more time to go adventuring.

The time had flown by since returning from the holiday break. Once back, the teachers gave them hardly a chance to catch their breath and reacclimate to being back at school before immediately loading them down with homework and study once more. It was already nearly spring, and not of one of them could say where the time had gone. 

It was now Friday night, and they had the weekend ahead of them. Harry had managed to clear out his backlog of homework and had two blissfully free days ahead of him. He was planning to use it wisely.

The revenge scheme he and the Slytherins had worked on all those months ago was now ready for phase II. 

They had practiced, and planned, and tonight was their chance to implement it. Hermione and Ginny wouldn't know what had hit them.

Harry saw Ginny approach the snack table and wandered towards it himself. He kept to the other end, away from her, but she made things easy by 'oh, so casually' drifting towards him. His own cup was already prepped with the love potion they had made. He filled his cup with juice, disguising it. 

Ginny looked at him hopefully, and batted her eyelashes. 

"Juice?" he asked, his voice neutral. Ginny smiled and nodded. 

He held out his hand for the cup, which she handed over with another 'sultry' smile, and more batting eyelashes.

Goyle, choosing his moment perfectly, bumped into her from behind while gathering snacks. Ginny turned and glared at him.

"Watch it, you great, lumbering moose!"

"Geez, calm down weasel." Goyle snorted disdainfully, before ambling away. 

She gave him one last scathing look and turned back to Harry with a smile, only to find he'd left after filling her cup. She snatched up her juice and scanned the room for some sight of him, but didn't see him anywhere. She scowled and drank down her juice, smacking her lips at the oddly sweet flavor. 

 

All thoughts of Harry Potter disappeared as her gaze fell upon the vision of a goddess.

Her wild hair, her big brown eyes, the strident shriek of her voice as she lectured those around her… 

Hermione Granger was smart, strong, beautiful, and most importantly, a Gryffindor.

And she was completely, irrevocably in love with her. 

 

Ginny drank down the rest of her juice, slammed the cup down on the table, and marched straight to where Hermione was standing, neither noticing nor caring about the people she shoved and nearly knocked over along the way. She grabbed Hermione by the arm, gave a tug and drug her towards the door. 

"Ginny, what…!"

"I need to talk to you." 

 

Harry and Pansy watched the whole thing from where they were hidden just inside the printing club.

"I didn't get to give Granger her dose."

"I guess we might as well get rid of it so there's no evidence to link us to this. It might actually work out better this way. If they were both under, they could just put it out of their minds afterwards. With only one of them under the influence, that'll be a bit harder."

"Oh, good, Draco vanished weaselette's cup." Pansy commented, before digging out the vial of love potion they'd made to give to Hermione. 

"You know, this is still linked to Weaselette. Maybe we should save it and slip it to someone else."

"We might as well just cut our losses. It is disappointing." 

Pansy spotted Colin Creevey wandering around, taking pictures like always, and smirked. 

"We might still be able to make this whole incident a spectacle. Follow my lead."

Harry shrugged and followed her. When they were close enough for Colin to hear them, Pansy started talking as though they were in the middle of a conversation, keeping her voice at a quiet hiss as though trying to keep things private.

"It's true, I tell you. I heard some of the portraits talking about how Ginny Weasley has been following Hermione Granger around and mooning over her. I also heard a rumor that she thinks she's in love with her! Can you imagine?"

"I find it hard to credit. Weasley's been stalking me since the day she got here. It would be nice if it was true, at least she wouldn't be bothering me anymore."

"Didn't you hear about what just happened? Weasley drug her out of the room. I bet she's planning to take her to the nearest broom closet to have her wicked way with her!" 

"Really?"

"Uh huh. I swear! It just happened a few minutes ago!"

"I'll believe it when I see it. Come on, I wanna get something to eat. I was about to earlier when Weasley came over, so I just left. If I'd known she was obsessed with someone else now, I would have just stuck around." 

Pansy shrugged, and the two of them ambled back towards the snack table. 

Harry filled his plate, Pansy scanned the room watching, and then smirked in triumph.

"Hook, line and sinker. I hope he gets some good pictures." 

They exchanged a glance and started laughing. 

Draco, and the rest of the Slytherins came bustling over a few minutes later. 

"There's a rumor going around the room that Weaselette just drug Granger off to have her wicked way with her, and that Creepy kid just went to get pictures! A couple of people have already asked the little Creepy for copies when he develops them! The best part is, boy Weasel heard the rumors and went running off to investigate!"

"You know what, I've got to see this." Millicent snickered. 

Apparently, she wasn't the only one. Quite a few kids left the Melting Pot to see what was happening. 

 

"It was mad! Mad I tell you! Colin Creevey heard them struggling in a broom closet, so he threw open the door and started taking pictures. Hermione tried to use the chance to get away, but Ginny decided Colin was trying to steal Hermione away from her, so she attacked him! Hermione tried to hex Ginny in the back, but she saw her going for her wand and took it off of her, threw it down the hall and then pounced on her again!"

"I heard she just about ripped her clothes off!"

"Yeah, I heard that too."

"The Bloody Baron saw what happened next. He said Ron came barrelling down the hall, saw Colin laying on the floor, and drew his wand. When he saw Ginny and Hermione he freaked out, but Hermione begged him to help her, so he tried to subdue Ginny. Ginny became enraged and said she'd kill anyone who tried to steal her beloved, so she just leapt out of the closet and tackled him! They ended up rolling around, kicking and screaming, but Ginny managed to get off a spell and knocked him out. While they were fighting, Hermione escaped, half-naked and covered in hickeys and tried to find a teacher."

"The Bloody Baron told you all that?"

"No, he told the Grey Lady, and the Grey Lady told the Fat Friar, who then told Sir Nick, who told Violet, who told all the other portraits. I actually heard it from the Fat Lady."

"So, what happened next?"

"Hermione ran for the entryway, and ran into the twins. They were apparently planning some prank or other nearby and saw her come running out all a mess and crying hysterically. Well, given the state she was in, they were rather alarmed, and demanded to know who had hurt her so they could go kill them. When she told them it was Ginny what done it, they got mad and told her it wasn't funny. The thing is , that's when Ginny arrived. She saw the twins standing real close to Hermione and patting her back, and she decided they were trying to steal her away too. She attacked them. Hermione just started screaming and ran away. One of the twins, I'm not sure which one, I can never tell them apart, went down covered in hexes. The other one opened fire on Ginny and tried to stop her. So, there they are, duelling back and forth, when a Hufflepuff prefect comes by. He just sees the one twin firing spells, so he figures he's playing a prank. He disarmed him, and started to lecture about using magic in the halls, but he went down too. The prefect is just standing there all shocked, so Ginny took him out so he wouldn't get in her way or something, and then ran off looking for Hermione."

"I actually saw part of the next part. Hermione found a bunch of the teachers in the staff room. They were having a meeting or something. She busts in there, half dressed, and completely hysterical. They couldn't understand a word she was saying. So, there they are, trying to calm her down so they know who did that to her, but then Ginny arrives. She just pounced on Hermione's back and started nibbling her ear or something and said 'Why don't we go someplace where we can be alone, so I can finally get you out of the rest of those clothes! And then, she tells her not to worry, because she's already taken out all the 'bastards trying to get in the way of their love'! The teachers were so flabbergasted, they just stood there, well, until Hermione started screaming fit to wake the dead, anyway."

"I heard Professor Snape knocked them both out."

"He did. The others were just standing there, so he just 'bam', 'bam' knocks them out, and then stepped over them and says to McGonagall "I leave dealing with the loony twins to you. I'm going to go find the 'bastards standing in the way of their love'!"

"I saw McGonagall and Lupin hauling them on stretchers to the medical wing. I didn't know about what all happened till now."

"I heard she made a real mess. Everyone she went after is in the hospital wing, and some of them were hurt pretty bad."

"I heard there was a lot of damage in the hallway and the stairwell, and that some of the portraits got damaged too. Man, she's probably going to be expelled, or if not that, then she'll be in detention till she's fifty!"

"I doubt it. She probably won't even get into trouble. They'll just say she had wrackspurts again, and we should all be kind to poor, ickle Gin-Gin, because it wasn't her fault, poor baby. Her and Hermione both get special treatment." 

"I doubt they'd do that."

The others listening all nodded agreement.

 

That night at dinner, Dumbledore rose to address the students. 

"I'm sure by now, many of you have heard about an altercation that took place earlier in the day. I'm am happy to inform you that all those who were caught up in events are recovering nicely in the hospital wing, and should be able to rejoin all of you within the next day or so. During the course of our investigation of events, it was discovered that young Miss Weasley was under the effects of a particularly strong love potion. The young lady was not in her right mind when events took place. I would ask that you keep this in mind when she has recovered. If anyone has any information or suspicions about how Miss Weasley came to be under the effects of said potion, please inform your head of house immediately so that appropriate measures can be taken against the miscreants who perpetrated this debacle."

Those sitting closest to Harry all looked at him.

"See? I told you. "Oh, the poor dear wasn't herself! Just ignore it!" Please. She wasn't acting any different than she normally does. And why do they think someone else was involved? Don't you have to do stuff to love potions to make sure they're focused on their target? I think I remember reading that. So, it was obviously Hermione, since it was focused on her. I guess she just got more than she bargained for." 

"If Hermione did make it, I doubt she was going after Ginny. She was probably aiming for Ron, and Ginny just got it by accident." 

"But naturally, the teachers don't take stuff like that into consideration. It's all 'oh, she's a poor victim. Poor girl. Someone must have done this to her." 

"I can't believe neither of them is getting punished! Most of us get punished if we walk too fast in the halls, or get to class a minute late, or have our ties on crooked! Any one of us would be expelled if we just hexed one kid in the hall, let alone regularly go on psychotic rampages through the halls! This is ridiculous!" Parvati seethed.

Judging by the low, mutinous murmur making its way through the great hall, they weren't the only ones who felt that way.

 

Up at the staff table, headmaster Dumbledore was twinkling merrily at all and sundry, and ignoring the deputy headmistress' stiff posture and thin lips. He was also ignoring Filius' equally stiff posture. 

Young Miss Weasley hadn't been in her right mind, and it would have been cruel to punish her for being victimized like that. She was a girl of good family--staunch Gryffindor light wizards since time immemorial. It was for the best. He would not allow filthy dark wizard plots to tarnish the Weasley's reputation. 

Poor Miss Granger as well. So much hatred against the muggleborn! No, so long as he was headmaster, decent upstanding Gryffindors like Miss Granger would be protected. He had noticed, of course, that Miss Granger seemed to get more than her fair share of anti-muggleborn attacks…it was obviously because she was so intelligent. Those who prided themselves on their purity of blood hated those like miss Granger especially, as she proved blood purity for a lie every time she proved her innate superiority to all of them. 

His lips tightened a bit at the angry mutters travelling through the hall. The children, as well as his staff, had no real appreciation for the burdens he carried, being the single beacon of light against the darkness. It hardly mattered. The memory modifying potion in everyone's drinks would see to it this whole unpleasant episode went away. 

 

Ginny and Hermione returned to the school population with little fanfare, and life at Hogwarts continued. 

 

As the warmer months approached, Harry began spending every free moment he could cobble working on his gatemaker. It was strange, but after the whole thing with the goblins, he understood the runic work that went into the thing much better. He understood what each meant individually as well as why it needed to be just where it was in the array. Finally, after two solid months of carefully building the device, and inscribing it with the necessary instructions, It was finally ready to go. 

He wouldn't be testing it till year's end, but he was actually pretty confident it would work as advertised. 

He left it down in the Chamber of Secrets, which was where he planned to leave from. He didn't want any of his roommates getting a hold of it and opening a gateway in their dorm room, after all. All that was left was to get his hands on Hermione's time turner, and he was good to go. Happily, Hermione made things easy for him. 

 

He had rifled through her mind a few times as the end of exams approached so he could plan out how best to snatch the thing. The info dump he'd given himself at the start of the year had also been a great help. 

She had made a copy, which she planned to turn in, gambling that the thing would be kept at Hogwarts so it could be returned to her in the fall when they returned, and wouldn't be inspected. She was planning to stay with the Weasleys for most of the summer. Being in a magical household meant she could poke at the thing to her heart's content while inside the house and away from prying eyes and learn all its secrets. 

She would have the real one in her pocket and the fake in her hand when she approached McGonagall's office to return it. She would prefer to leave it behind, safe in her trunk, but decided better safe than sorry. If her switch was discovered, she could hand over the real one, and claim she'd made the fake to give to her mother as a present and got them mixed up. That was all Harry needed to know. 

The theft, when the time came, was ridiculously easy. He simply lay in wait under his invisibility cloak, and did a switching spell on the fake he'd made, targeting the real one in Hermione's pocket to switch with. He pocketed it and snuck away, just as Hermione raised her hand to knock. 

He managed to slip back into the dorm room with no one the wiser. 

Neville came up a few minutes later and beckoned Harry to follow him. 

"What are you doing hanging out up here? It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, exams are over and we're free till term ends! Come on, a bunch of us are going to go hang out by the lake for a bit." 

Harry had planned to just leave the moment he had the time turner, but a last bit of time with his friends would hardly hurt, would it? He wouldn’t be seeing any of them for quite a while from his perspective. A few extra hours wouldn't hurt…after all, he now had all the time in the world.

"Sounds good, Nev. Let's go get ourselves some fresh air and sunshine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! This is the end of Book 2.
> 
> Book three will detail Harry's first adventure in dimension travel. Watch as he makes new friends, travels the new world he's found himself in, helps end a war that's been going on for a hundred years, runs into someone unexpected, and does a whole lot of dancing.
> 
> Hope to see you there!
> 
> As always, thank you everyone who comments or leaves kudos. Your feedback is what makes everything worthwhile.


End file.
